


Roses of May

by cuttlemefish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Parenthood, Angst, Emperor Viktor, Fantasy, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Romance, Royalty, Supernatural - Freeform, baby in fic, champion magic user yuuri, growing up together fic, implied/referenced character death (not of the main characters/main couple), not mpreg, world building, yuuri is a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttlemefish/pseuds/cuttlemefish
Summary: At age five, all children are assessed for talent and beauty in the City of Hasetsu and the other eight cities of the Empire. Every year, five are branded with the mark of a rose before being carded off to the Emperor’s palace where they are trained to become Roses, or sacrifices to be sent every May to the Ice Spirit that lives in the castle at the top of the mountain. Roses never return, except for Katsuki Yuuri, who shocks the Empire when he appears again two years after his departure with a silver crown on his head and a blond baby in his arms, demanding the Emperor step down or face the wrath of his husband, the Ice King. But, not everything is what it seems.





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This was born over on Tumblr. I asked people to send me fake fic titles so I could write a summary for them as a response and things got a little out of hand, especially with this summary. I'm thinking 7 chapters for now (this is a test chapter, so if there's no interest, I'm just pulling the story and keeping the idea to turn into an original). Also, I'm over at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com if anyone wants to come hang out or look at the tag 'the fake title game' for some of the other stories that may be coming in the future. <3

When Yuuri is four-years-old, he wraps his fist around the hem of Mari’s shirt tunic, running behind her so they can wait for the Parade of Roses to pass by their parents’ inn. Yutopia is one of the last remaining hot springs resorts in Hasetsu, home of the Emperor and his Roses. Hasetsu is the heart of the nine cities, a cradle of opulence, beauty, and power by the sea, and the only place Yuuri has ever known.

There’s a crowd already lining both sides of the street and confetti is flying like dust clouds over his head. When a speck sticks to the tip of his nose, he laughs until he’s sneezing repeatedly, and Mari orders him to hold his nose.

“Bless you,” the baker says gruffly, handing Yuuri a handkerchief, and he takes it shyly, hiding his face against the fabric. He’s careful not to unfist his hand. Their father gave them a few coins to buy some cotton candy, and Yuuri is eager, chubby hand wrapped tight around the metal coin as his eyes drink in the sight of the salesman rolling a broom stick between his palms and making the little pink bags bounce in parallel to the heads bobbing in tune with the band. Yuuri eyes the cotton candy with hunger. His mouth waters as he raises his hand to get the attention of the candy man.

“Yuuri, stop fidgeting,” Mari tells him, voice just on the verge of excitement as she anchors him in place and turns his head: “Look!”

And he does.

The Emperor’s carriage always leads the group. It’s gold and shiny with contours and designs Yuuri had never imagined possible with metal. Yutopia is all made of fine wood from the purpleheart forest at the edge of the city, cut by his great-grandparents and put together with reverence (praying with incense over the carcasses of trees with purple hearts sacrificing their beauty for more beauty). Yuuri had always thought the carvings on the walls were ornate, unlike anything that could exist somewhere else. He’d spent many mornings trying to memorize the walls that now pale in comparison with the gold egg being pulled down the main road.

“Wow,” he whispers, just at the same time as a little blond head pops out from the window, and the crowd laughs. It’s like a wave of surprise and happiness that rolls through the crowd at the sight, and just as quickly, the little boy is pulled back inside. “What was that?”

“That’s the Prince,” Mari whispers to Yuuri, waving as the carriage gives way to the Royal Band and then the Soldiers of the Court. The Chief of Defense looks regal in a powder blue suit, his hair pulled back into a ponytail tight enough that Yuuri can almost count the hairs on his scalp. “That’s the band and the army.”

The floats are exciting, too. Yuuri has never seen so many colors in one place. He takes in every single image, trying to bookmark it in his memory bank, and he forgets all about the cotton candy man.

The nine cities of the kingdom are represented in the parade, Mari explains, each with a float. Dillwyn’s float is all flowers, roses dyed in bright blues and purples, with thick green vines. One of the Roses is from Dillwyn, or Mari thinks her teacher told that to her class. A few Green Talents sit on the float, hands rolling in the air as they make the vines dance around each other like serpents. Yuuri giggles when one of the vines – the longest ones – inches down from the float, trying to shake hands with the crowd. When it reaches him and Mari, his eyes widen and brighten the moment the vine pops off a flower from its back, leaving it in his hands before it curls away.

His favorite float, though, is from Tully City. Yuuri watches amazed as an entire group of white tigers walk alongside the float, calm as they paw down the road.

“How do they do that?” he asks Mari, practically shaking in excitement.

“I think they talk to the animals,” Mari shrugs, practically yawning as she looks to spend her coin on sugar cane juice. When she can’t find any, she settles for pure sugarcane sold in a green paper bag.

Hasetsu’s float is the last one, looking particularly proud with the Spring Queen twirling like a gold tornado. She dances with two large fans spinning in her hands, but Yuuri can’t stop admiring the bright, gold-threaded mesh with flower print tattooed all along the expanse of her body. When she reaches the edge of the float, she does a set of splits that let the extra fabric of her train pool around her exposed legs, and Yuuri notices for the first time that she has emeralds and rubies encrusted on her legs.

“There you are. Oh,” Yuuri hears, and his mother’s familiar hands cover his eyes. “Cover your eyes, too, Mari.”

“Mom,” Mari whines but does as she’s told, huffing loudly the entire time. “Are the Roses coming on now?”

“Yes, you can uncover your eyes now,” Hiroko Katsuki tells her children, looking bubbly as she hugs them both against her sides. Yuuri rubs his cheek against his mother’s stomach, resting his head as he waits for the main show. “You’re happy to see the Roses, aren’t you, Yuu-chan?”

“Hm,” Yuuri hums, trying not to shift too much. When he looks up, his nose scrunches up. “Looks like it’s gonna storm, Mama.”

“Huh?” Mari looks up, surprised. “In May?”

“Shh, now, look, there they are,” Hiroko tells them, pushing both her children to stand in front of her.

The Roses are beautiful.

Yuuri watches a redhead with long strands of flaming hair twirl a ribbon as she spins down the road. When she throws the baton so high it glints with a wink from the sun, she jumps into an arabesque mid-air and stretches her arms to the sky. She opens her lips and a rush of flames rise fast and hard into the air, and the crowd gasps when her feet hit the ground. Her hand wraps tight around the baton, twirling the ribbon again, even as sparks flicker from her feet. 

“She’s the champion,” Mari whispers, hands shaking in excitement.

“What’s the champignon?” Yuuri asks.

“ _That’s_ a mushroom. A  _champion._ You really only think of food, huh, Yuuri?” Mari’s eyes sparkle as she pretends to kick an imaginary opponent. “That means she’s the boss of the group and she’s going to kick the Spirit of Ice into submission for another year! Eventually, when we’ve sent enough people, we’ll have an army, and they’ll all come back.”

Yuuri nods, like that makes perfect sense, but he doesn’t really understand who the Roses are or why they stroll down every May and never come back. He doesn’t ask anyone, though (mostly because it feels like he should know). He watches the rest of the parade and then goes home. He eats katsudon for dinner, has a warm bath before bedtime, and dreams of dancing flowers and hugging tigers and when he wakes up, the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow that keeps Mari home from school.

“Can you believe it? Snow in May,” his mother says and shakes her head, hands shaky as she tries to finish their breakfast.

“This must mean the Ice Spirit is unhappy,” Yuuri’s father tells them cheerfully, even as he dusts off their sled. Nothing ever seems to bother Yuuri’s father. “He has brought in winter to remind us that the Roses should’ve left by now.”

Yuuri just presses his face against the window, eyes wide as he continues to admire snow – as far as he can see.

.

Months later, in school, Yuuri stands next to Phichit, fidgeting in his sweater when their teacher Minako stops in front of him with a beaming smile that (strangely) doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Yuuri likes Minako, who is always excited about the world and sings and dances with them all over the playground. The other woman next to her is tall with a long face and thin eyebrows, dressed in the official robes bearing the Emperor’s emblem. Her hair is kept in a tight ponytail high above her head, and Yuuri wonders if it hurts her scalp.  

“This is Yuuri and that’s Phichit. Yuuri is five,” Minako says, motioning towards him with open palms, and the other woman next to her scribbles on her clipboard with obvious disinterest. “He started school a little late, so he’s with the four-year-old group in my classroom, but Yuuri is very bright. Yuuri, this is Miss Lilia Baranovskaya from the Emperor’s Rose Acquisition Division. She’s here to assess the school’s five-year-old children, but since you’re not in the same class as the rest, I brought her to see you.”

“Is this the winter catalyst?” Miss Baranovskaya says, using her pen to prod at Yuuri’s belly. He wraps both his arms tight around his stomach, giving her a weary, almost scared look. “A little chubby, but he has a very pretty set of eyes, and with good breeding, he’ll grow to become quite beautiful. It’s always the ones with the thick cheeks that end up with razor cheekbones, probably because  _we_  can do a good job of ensuring they shed appropriately. I can work with him,  _if_  he’s in fact a winter catalyst.”

“Ah, yes, Yuuri is the winter catalyst,” Minako nods, wringing her hands nervously. Yuuri has never heard the doubt edging in her voice now. He’s a little scared, inching closer towards the lockers. “And it’s an impressive talent, but I’m sure you’re seeing a lot of winter catalysts throughout the nine cities... no need for a little boy from Hasetsu.”

“Hm, we’re finding the few we’ve found are actually quite the disappointment. They can tell the weather: Big deal, so can a weatherman. Oh, my child touches things into ice: Then, he’s a refrigerator and useless for much else. In truth, they’re disappearing quickly, and I can’t even blame society for it. Who wants to fuc—”

“Miss Baranovskaya,” Minako admonishes, covering Phichit’s ears. Yuuri plasters his back against the lockers, feeling the cold seep through his sweater like a familiar friend offering him comfort.

(When he’s thirteen, Yuuri will know what Lilia didn’t say:  _Who wants to fuck an ice cube._ )

“Right, well, not to mention most of the time they’re ugly…” Miss Baranovskaya studies Yuuri carefully, motioning for Phichit to move away.

Phichit runs over to hide behind Minako’s skirts, big eyes peering straight through Yuuri.

Yuuri might only be five, but he knows what she didn’t say. He’d seen a lot of pictures of other winter catalysts, usually weak and pale blue with skin the color of ash, like they were freezing from the inside. Yuuri was both chunky and rosy pink. It was unnatural, given his state. His family had been naturally surprised when he’d been assessed at three to be a winter catalyst, and they had promptly pulled him out of school for a full year to help him. Yuuri’s still not sure  _how_  they helped him, but he now knows there are certain things that he cannot do in public, or with other people, and that’s enough.

“You, dance for me.”

Yuuri whimpers, “I can’t.”

“Why not? Child, do not waste my time. I have many more schools and many more children to see. Now dance. The Emperor’s Court orders you to show me your talent.”

“B—but my parents said I shouldn’t show no one,” Yuuri whispers, pulling at his sweater.

Minako gives him an encouraging smile, saying, “Go on, Yuuri, it’s okay, I promise. Your parents know Miss Lilia would want to see you dance.”

Yuuri takes in a deep breath and twirls. It’s a clumsy move, his chubby arms and legs twisting and arching, and he expects snow. Instead, he feels a gust of wind whistle through the hallway, and Lilia Baranovskaya’s hard stare bores deeper into him, like she’s trying to take him apart. Yuuri wonders if he’s broken. Where is the snow? Minako, too, looks concerned, brow furrowed in concentration. Phichit extends out his palm and finds that nothing is coming from the ceiling. But, soon enough, Yuuri takes a long, hard gulp, and when his eyes locked with Miss Baranovskaya, his bottom lip wobbles at the same time as it starts to hale.

He can’t quite get the hale to stop. The school has to be evacuated the moment a giant ball of ice smashes through the trophy case, sending the school principal running out of his office with a bat to check on the scene. Minako rushes to grab Yuuri’s hand, pulling him out of the hallway: “Come on, boys!” she yells, pushing them into safety.

Lilia takes her time. The click of her heels haunts Yuuri. She stops and picks up an ice ball, bouncing it in her hand before she tries to throw it at a wall. The wall dents before the ice can even melt. “Amazing,” she whispers, entering the principal’s office.

Yuuri can see her hand reach out in slow motion. He considers snatching back, maybe even running, but he’s too slow.

When Lilia Baranovskaya touches his wrist, it burns, like something prickling and digging into his skin with fire, and he yells and tries to move away, shouting for his mother. And when she lets go, there’s a pretty printed rose – red and orange flickering as the brand cools into a royal purple. He sniffles, crying against Minako’s shirt, and she holds him and tells him, “We’re all so proud of you, Yuuri. So proud.”

He wants to ask her why, but the principal calls his parents and then he’s too busy listening to them negotiate moving dates. He slowly realizes he won’t be going home.

.

There are five Roses: Yuuri, Mila, Sara, Emil, and Michele.

Sara and Michele (Mickey) are twins. Their talents are intertwined. They’re both from Dillwyn, the children of the Emperor’s florist and Green Talents. Sara seems to latch onto Yuuri immediately. Yuuri can’t seem to ever focus on her face, not with how she’s always making her pigtails bounce.

Mila is an Empathic Talent. She can control people’s emotions, and the first time Yuuri meets her, she smiles, pressing a finger against her bottom lip in wonderment: “Don’t worry,” she tells him, “I won’t tell anyone.” He’s not exactly sure what she’s not telling anyone, but he decides it’s better not to ask.

Emil is a Fire Talent. It doesn’t quite seem to fit, going at odds with his relaxed nature. It’s much like how Yuuri’s talent doesn’t fit either. They become fast friends. For some reason, Yuuri thinks almost instantly that Emil will become the Champion. He’s _fearless_ , with a constant hunger for adventure. He tells Yuuri about his days living with his parents on a boat. “We used to go all over the world,” he says, “the ocean was our home.” And then he tells Yuuri more stories that make Yuuri start to think his parents might have been pirates, as in the real ones that prey on merchants in the ports, not the fake ones in storybooks that wear striped shirts and bandanas.

(Their first day in the Emperor’s Palace, every Talent has a group. Sara and Mickey are part of one of the largest groups – the Green Talents. Within that, there are subgroups: Poisons, Growers, Healers, and Dramatics. The twins latch onto Isabella Yang, a pretty Green Talent and especially deadly Poison that acts as her cohort’s Champion. Sara sits on Isabella’s lap almost immediately, treating her like an adoptive big sister, maybe even a mom, and she wastes no time showing the group her talent for poisonous flowers.

Emil doesn’t seem very convinced when he meets Jean-Jacques (JJ), like there’s no way they’re from the same Talent, but, soon enough, he settles into his group.

Mila, meanwhile, attaches to Georgi instantly. He’s soon to ship off the following May. She stands with her group, preening as she and the others don’t say a word, simply touching hands to communicate. Yuuri has never seen Empathic Talents together. It’s amazing to see them standing side by side, their eyes glazed and lids heavy while an aura of cool detachment surrounds them, like a dark box hiding them.

“What about the Winter Talent?” Isabella asks, probably because Sara is looking distraught with her arms wrapped tight around her new favorite.

Royal Caretaker Yakov Feltsman hums to himself, studying Yuuri for a long while. Finally, he says, “go with whoever you want. There’s no one else like you anyway.”

Yuuri’s not sure what to make of his instructions, bottom lip quivering as he looks around at all the different little families already formed and happy _without_ him. And then Isabella puts Sara down and takes a few quick steps over to him, plucking him from the ground. She’s strong and smells like quixotic flowers, something strange that he can’t quite pinpoint – maybe it’s lavender after rain.

“Hey,” she tells him, proud, “you’re ours now, okay?”

And he nods, sniffling as she brings him back to the fold of the Green Talents.)

.

Yuuri stands with the Green Talents closest to the thrones. Technically, all the Roses are supposed to stand with their Talent families, but JJ doesn’t pay attention to the rules and stands by Isabella, holding onto Sara’s hand. Mickey stands off to the side, glaring at JJ the entire time. Isabella holds onto Yuuri’s hand, stopping every so often to smile down at Yuuri, and Yuuri can almost imagine JJ and Isabella having children of their own someday.

“Why does Beka get to be up there?” Sara asks JJ, tugging at the sleeve of his tunic.

JJ chuckles, picking her up from the ground to bounce her in his arms, and she laughs.

“Because he’s the oldest Champion now that Georgi is gone and his job is to protect the royals for as long as he’s still around,” JJ explains, “you see that large medallion around his neck with all the smaller coins?”

“Yup!” Sara chirps, “It looks heavy!”

“Pure gold,” JJ explains, running his fingers through her hair. “Every added coin commemorates an achievement during his training. When it’s time for him to go, they’ll send weigh the medal and multiply the weight by some amount and that’s all the gold his family will get. Plus the medal and the honor of being the family of a Roe, of course.”

“Do you have one, too?” Yuuri asks Isabella.

Isabella nods, preening, “mine is even heavier than Beka’s! It’s going to really help my family out in a couple more years.”

It’s the first time Yuuri thinks of the fact that Isabella is barely sixteen.

.

The Emperor is murdered in front of his court. It happens so fast, Yuuri assimilates the event to a gasp and then a scream. Otabek Altin is a Light Element from Tana and the Champion that year. He stands proudly behind the throne of the Prince, knuckles white with pressure as he digs his fingers against the pure gold of the chair. Prince Viktor is impatient, like a ball of energy just waiting to bounce against the walls, and he keeps crawling on his knees to turn around on his throne to whisper something to Otabek, who keeps a straight, serious face before ushering his charge to turn back in the direction of the stage in the middle of the courtroom.

The dancers from Korine walk out in a single line, dressed in the typical garbs of the Peacock Dance. Yuuri gasps, watching them in their dark green bodysuits. Pieces of mash gold netting stick out from their bright red belts and he assumes they’re supposed to represent scaled feathers. The makeshift peacock tail is a piece of elaborately stitched silk triangular cape. Two pieces of translucent, gossamer strings tie the two ends to the wrists of the dancers. When they trot forward on their tip toes, the capes float, looking almost like a fanning tail. Yuuri has never seen something so beautiful. On their heads, Yuuri notes that the dancers wear gold crowns shaped to look like the head of a peacock. The gold is encrusted with small, precious green gems, glinting under the lights of the court, which only grows quieter the moment the dancers pair up and turn to face each other to start their dance. They jump and flutter, arms extended out to flap the makeshift tails with such elegance that Yuuri feels a melancholy pain in his chest wishing he could share the moment with his sister.

(“You’re so lucky, Yuuri,” Mari had said to him before he’d left. “The things you’re going to see!”)

He notices that every cape has different stitching, like each of the dancers is a completely different bird, indeed. Yuuri rests his cheek against Isabella’s hip, letting out little innocent sighs.

The Emperor seems equally amazed and midway through the dance, he stands, picking up his son so Prince Viktor can stand on top of his chair.

Otabek grows nervous, and next to him, Yuuri can feel Isabella tense.

“Is he going to come down towards the dancers?” Isabella asks JJ, who shrugs.

“What’s the harm? It’d be foolishness for them to attempt anything in a room full of Roses,” JJ whispers back. “Korine is filled with insurgents. It’s a miracle they were even let into Hasetsu. I’m sure the poor dancers are nervous enough.”

The Emperor takes slow, certain steps down the stairs towards the middle of the court room, showing his gratitude towards the dancers as he nods his head. Otabek stumbles, standing somewhere in front of Prince Viktor and just at the edge of the throne stage.

The dancers look every bit as honored as they should, parting into single lines to start their solos.

It’s so sudden, Yuuri doesn’t even get a look. Isabella gasps and grabs for him in a second, shielding him with her body. And then there’s the sound of a buzz flitting through the air. When Isabella slowly uncovers Yuuri again, Green Talent Healers are already rushing forward towards the body of the Emperor lying face down on the ground. The Korine dancers have stopped moving, looking horrified as they cower close together. One of them drops to his knees, yelling, “mercy! We are innocent!”

In his throne, Prince Viktor looks shell shocked, trapped inside a cage made from lightning. Otabek stands in front of him, hands clenched tight around a rope made purely of electric currents. On the other end, the perpetrator drops to the ground, groaning in pain as Otabek continues to increase the intensity of his spell.

“Beka!” Isabella yells, running to his side, “You’re going to kill him! He needs to account for his crimes.”

“Stay together,” JJ tells Sara, Mickey, and Yuuri. “Hold hands and start making your way towards the door. Anya! Take two with you and each take a door!”

The five Empathic Talents, including small Mila, have already surrounded the group of dancers.

“They tell the truth!” Mila says first, looking at the rest of her family. “They’re telling the truth!”

“Keep digging,” Yakov yells at them. “They could have hidden the plot in their subconscious.”

By then, Sara is already pulling Yuuri through the crowd.

“Come on,” she says, tugging hard, “you heard JJ. We need to go!”

.

Yuuri turns six and the Emperor has died. It’s a shock to everyone. His son, six-year old Viktor, takes over the throne. Suddenly, Yakov Feltsman, the Royal Caretaker, must stop taking care of the Roses and start taking care of Viktor. For the weeks that follow, it’s like the hallways are haunted, and Yuuri tries to drown out the sounds of screams and wails in the hallway.

Prince Viktor is mourning, and it seems he’s woken the spirits in every hallway to ensure everyone mourns with him.

.

Despite the elaborate robes and crown on his head, Viktor is a child, much more childlike than Yuuri. He’s curious and excitable, and when he meets the Roses, he’s eager to see everyone’s special skill: Yakov brings him to meet the other children and the older Roses, hoping, perhaps, this will shake Viktor from his mourning stage.

“Show me, show me!” Viktor says petulantly, clapping his hands. He has this heart-shaped smile that matches the wonderment in his eyes when Isabella waves her hands around in arabesques over her head. When she rests her hand under her chin to blow him a kiss, her lips blow gently, and a mass of purple smoke floats like a thick cloud over the Emperor’s head. Viktor looks up and, at the sound of a pop, rose petals rain over him. He spins, taking them all in before he rushes to hug Isabella, practically throwing himself against her chest: “It’s so beautiful!” he tells her. “You’re so beautiful, too!”

And she gives him a motherly, attentive smile, “thank you, Your Highness.”

Viktor seems fascinated with beauty. He goes up to Mila and asks to touch her hair: “It’s like touching fire!” he tells her, then touches his own hair, furrowing his brow as if thinking that her hair is better than his (and Yuuri wouldn’t doubt to say it is).

“Well, yours looks like the ashes of dead stars,” Mila says. Viktor looks horrified for a moment, until she adds, “it’s like the sky. It’s beautiful.”

When Viktor gets to Yuuri, his cheeks are rosy from excitement, and he shouts, “Hi, I’m Viktor! What do you do?”

“Yuuri,” Celestino smiles, “has a very, very special talent. He’s the only one of his kind here.”

In the corner, JJ stands by Isabella, looking smug as he whispers something in her ear, and she proceeds to blow Yuuri a little kiss in encouragement. Yuuri doesn’t say anything. His breath hitches in his throat, making a funny, strange type of sound before snow starts falling all around the two of them, and Viktor jumps, stretching out his hands: “Snow! Yakov, look, it’s snowing! I  _love_  snow!”

Yuuri flushes a bright pink, and the snow comes down harder.

“That’s  _amazing_ ,” Viktor gushes, taking Yuuri’s hands, “do more!”

Yuuri looks at Yakov and then at Celestino. They both nod, and Yuuri takes a step backwards. He turns around, giving his back to Viktor before he uses the empty space in front of him to start blowing into his cupped hands.

Viktor tries to peek around him, confused.

When Yuuri is done, he opens up his palms.

“It’s, it’s a rose!” Viktor clasps his hands together.

“Made of ice,” Celestino adds, resting a hand on Viktor’s back.

“Can I have it?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri shrugs, handing it over.

The moment their hands touch, though, the rose dissolves, and Yuuri watches as a puddle quickly forms around Viktor’s shoes.

“Oh,” Viktor scrunches up his nose, staring down at his wet hands. There’s obvious disappointment in his eyes, and Yuuri runs over to Isabella, hoping he’ll never have to show the Prince his talents again.

**TBC**


	2. Ice

At seven-years-old, Yuuri’s training makes a dramatic turn—fast enough that it sends him scratching the surface of his sanity to hold on. 

Before then, Yuuri had liked his training. He could dance all he wanted and no one would tell him to stop. He could dance until the snow was an inch thick on the marble floor and hail began to fall, heavy and hard, the size of his fist. There was no Mama Katsuki or Mari complaining about the house being colder inside than outside. Papa Katsuki wouldn’t pluck him from his bed and sit him on his lap to ask Yuuri if he’d had another dream about dancing, either, because those always left Yuuri feeling mildly sheepish and guilty. When he turns seven, though, Lilia wraps a steady hand around his wrist and drags him into the office of Celestino Cialdini, the Emperor’s Chief of Defense. Before then, Yuuri had only seen Celestino monthly for practice. All the Roses needed to know how to protect themselves, but not to the same extent as a Champion. And Yuuri was now a Champion.

“Fighting is not much different from dancing,” he’s told. Celestino is kind, kneeling to rest a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, “which means that, if you can wield winter when you dance, surely you can learn to do it when you fight.”  
  
“I don’t think I can,” Yuuri cries, wanting a hug from Yuuko, his dance instructor. He rubs at his eyes hard, not caring that Lilia will admonish him later for being so careless about making his skin look blotchy. After all, Roses need to be as beautiful as they are deadly, like collectibles of war. Yuuri has been chosen as the most prized of his lot. And, naturally, he wants to mourn. Yuuko is far away, though, somewhere removed from Yuuri and his tears. “I don’t wanna be the Champion!” – It’s a petulant wish, like he has some type of choice. None of them do, ever did.

“But it’s such a great honor, Yuuri,” Celestino tells him, brushing Yuuri’s hair back. Since Yuuko isn’t around, Celestino is the one that hugs him, and Yuuri wonders how many children have cried in front of him, begging him to choose differently. “The best honor. Together, we’re going to make you into an excellent Champion for Emperor Viktor Nikiforov II.”

(Naturally, Yuuri decides then that he despises Viktor. It doesn’t matter that they’re both children. In Yuuri’s mind, if Viktor didn’t exist, neither would the Roses. It's no a logical thought, but he holds onto it and lets it flame his anger.) 

.

When a Champion is chosen for a new class of Roses, the Emperor presents the Champion with medal – designed by the Emperor after weeks of careful study. But Viktor is a new Emperor, and he’s never made a medal before, so Yuuri is forewarned that his medal will likely be _very_ simple, which bears badly on his family: “Everyone wants an elaborate medallion,” Isabella explains, letting him touch her medal. His fingers rest over every individual coin, memorizing each one. Isabella is one of the most accomplished Champions the palace has hosted. Being able to touch her medal is an honor. “The more elaborate the initial design, the more gold it uses, which means you _start_ with a heavier medal in the first place.” – Yuuri understands. The weight of the medal he leaves behind will be multiplied in gold and handed to his family. A simple medal means he’ll have to work harder or risk his family getting less than the others. It makes him resent Viktor more.

Celestino tells him not to worry. If the medal is _too_ rudimentary, they’ll discuss with the Regent of the Crown how to best infuse fairness into the deal. Yuuri assumes that might mean making the medal heavier somehow. But Viktor takes his new duty very seriously. He follows behind Yuuri like a puppy, almost tripping in his long robes and heavy crown. Everywhere Yuuri turns, he sees a heart shaped smile. His bright gaze follows Yuuri from the breakfast table to the sink and to the training room. Viktor claps eagerly when Yuuri manages to freeze the floor, and proceeds to slip and slide all the way to Celestino’s feet. When Yuuri naps, he wakes to Viktor staring at him with a tilted head, curious and studious like Yuuri is his favorite book.

“Hey, hey, Yuuri,” Emperor Viktor pulls on his sleeve one day, waking him from sleep. “Do you like dogs?”

Yuuri nods, rubbing at his eyes. He’s always liked dogs, but his family hadn’t been able to afford one.  Still, it's a strange question, and Yuuri feels his stomach dip with dread he's never experienced before.

Viktor clasps his hands together, looking every bit like Yuuri just gifted him the moon. He doesn’t say a word, gasping with the same speed as he turns on his heel and trots out of the room. He almost trips on his robes again, but recovers swiftly. Yuuri watches the door for quite a while. There’s a little part of his head that tries to remind him that Viktor is at fault for all his tribulations. Yuuri shushes it, slipping back into his cot to sleep a little longer before he has to join the other Roses for history class.

. 

“This is Makkachin,” Viktor yells at Yuuri, cheeks bright red as he tries to haul the tall poodle over to him. He drops the leash for a minute to brush his long braid over his shoulder, but quickly recovers the rope when the dog attempts to run in the direction of a garden rabbit. Viktor digs his heels in, foregoing the leash again to wrap his arms tight around Makkachin’s neck. The dog is all fluff. “She’s the Royal Ca—Can—Dog. See? You can tell because she has this gold medal around her neck all the time that says she’s property of the Emperor. She used to be my Papa’s, but now she’s mine. He used to make her sleep in a big room all by herself, which probably made her really sad because Lilia says she’s still a puppy, but now she’s mine so she sleeps with me!”

Yuuri isn’t sure why Viktor is sharing this with him, but listens attentively while sipping on his cranberry juice. The other Roses watch from afar, some more amused than others. Isabella gives him a little wink, encouraging him with a wave of her hands to mingle. The favor of the Emperor is a sought-after prize, and Yuuri might have acquired it on accident, even without wanting it. Yuuri doesn’t say a word, simply stretches out a hand to pat Makkachin’s head. The poodle preens, panting heavily in her happiness.

“Yuuri,” Viktor reaches for Yuuri’s free hand, “do you want to walk Makkachin with me?”

“Emperor Viktor!” Celestino interrupts, towering behind Yuuri. “What are you doing out of the palace without an escort? Does Regent Yakov know you’re here?”

Yuuri watches blue eyes widen as Celestino reaches above Yuuri’s head to wrap a strong hand around the Emperor’s wrist and pull him to the side. Makkachin follows calmly, probably better trained to follow the orders of adults than children.

“Yuuri,” Celestino orders, albeit good-naturedly. He tugs Viktor gently, already ushering him back in the direction of the pathway that leads to the palace, “go back there with the others. Follow Isabella’s instructions. I need to get the Emperor back to his studies, which he’s obviously skipping in favor of playing with the Royal Canine. Come, Royal Canine.”

Makkachin paws behind him obediently, tail wagging as they go.

(“You know,” Isabella chuckles as she combs through Yuuri’s hair that night, “the Emperor thinks you don’t like him. He really wants you to like him. Maybe if you pretend to be a little friendlier to him he’ll make you a really nice medal.”

“Why would he want that?” Yuuri says, not denying that he, in fact, doesn’t like the Emperor. He realizes it’s an unfair choice to dislike an orphan. Isabella’s idea does have some merit, though, so he mulls it over for a couple of minutes while her fingers trace over his temples.

“He’s a child. He needs friends. You’re a child and, eventually, bound to spend considerable time with him. I’m sure he wants you to like him or at least tolerate him to make his life a little less lonely. Not to mention that having the Emperor as a friend can only behoove you.”

“Then you befriend him,” Yuuri turns around, taking her comb from her hand and sliding off he bed. Isabella gives him an amused, lopsided smile, chuckling softly to herself as she watches him struggle to find his shoes.

She sighs, “Yuuri, come back. I’m not done with your hair. One-hundred brushes, remember? – I promise I won’t push you to befriend the Emperor anymore.”

“You promise?” Yuuri pouts.

“Promise!” she grins. “No more talk of you becoming the Emperor’s friend.”

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with making new friends, but being friends with Viktor sounds exhausting, like another job.  Yuuri isn’t willing to take on more work right now. He has enough on his plate just trying to figure out how to control his talent without anyone to commiserate or help. Besides, he was brought to the palace to be a Rose, not a playmate for Viktor. Yuuri is going to be a good Rose, the best Rose.)

. 

In June, after the departure of a Champion and the ascension of a new one, the next Champion to turn seven receives their medal. Viktor preens with pride when he gets to slide the medal over Yuuri’s head. The medal doesn’t make a lot of sense. It’s huge, almost impossible to miss, and a few Roses chuckle when they catch sight of the symbol etched at the very center. Yuuri knows it’s not uncommon for an Emperor to center his design after a central image. Otabek, for example, had been the Stallion, and the etched horse at the center of his medal had been impressive. Isabella’s had the tree of life in the center. Georgi had been the Emperor’s Phoenix. But Yuuri has a giant, grinning poodle that would be a perfect replica of Makkachin if not for the lack of panting tongue in the image. J.J. laughs so hard, Isabella has to elbow him in the stomach until he’s doubling over with coughs.

Celestino gives Yuuri an unfortunate smile.

“It’s definitely elaborate,” he offers, leading everyone in a round of applause.

Yuuri touches his medal and tries to pinch his thigh with his free hand to keep from crying, but the longer he stares at the sweet, fluffy face of the poodle embossed on his heavy medal, the more tears that begin to sting at his eyes. Yuuko is the first one to notice, and she takes a few steps towards him to kneel and whisper in his ear: “It’s okay, Yuuri. It’s a very nice medal. Very _big_ and _heavy_ , and through time we’ll decorate it into something so beautiful and so impressive, you’ll love it and so will your family. And, look, already you have a little coin here. Isn’t it nice? It’s a twirling star. It even moves. Wow. Your Highness, you really outdid yourself.”

“It moves?” Mila chirps, rushing over to try to peek. Isabella, ever the motherly one of the group, reaches for her hand and pulls her back to admonish her gently. This is Yuuri’s ceremony. He will show them his medal when he’s ready. “I want to see the star. It must be pretty!”

“It’s quite a gift,” Regent Yakov pushes out, sounding uncertain as he tilts his head to look at Yuuri’s medal.

But it feels more like a cruel joke. The medal is supposed to signify what the Emperor thinks of Yuuri. And, even though Yuuri realizes Viktor is only a child, who couldn’t help but make a cute medal, the results will haunt Yuuri forever. When he leads his team up the mountain, the Ice Spirit will laugh, too, cackling in delight that after having defeated a Stallion and a Phoenix and even Life itself, if Isabella does not return. The Ice Spirit will find that there is the new Champion sent to defeat him – the Royal Guard Dog.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asks softly, taking a step forward. His eyes are clouded with concern.

Yuuri curls closer to Yuuko, keeping his eyes set on the medal. He hates Viktor even more then.

“Do you not like it?” Viktor continues, looking unsure and vulnerable. “I thought you liked poodles. I put the biggest poodle on there because I wanted you to have the biggest, happiest medal ever, that way, when you’re feeling sad, you can look at it and smile. And, since Makkachin is my favorite in the whole wide world, when people see your medal, they’ll know…”

Yuuko gasps next to Yuuri, her entire body rolling with the strength of her breath.

“They’ll know that you’re also the Emperor’s favorite.”

Yuuri looks up, pout evident as he takes a step forward to shove Viktor away.

“I don’t want to be your favorite,” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks, “I don’t even want to be your Champion! Or your Rose! I just want you to leave me alone!”

He regrets the words almost instantly. Viktor watches him with confusion, but soon his bottom lip starts quivering and Lilia rushes over to press a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. But it’s too late. Viktor starts crying, rubbing at his eyes, and it’s the prettiest thing Yuuri has ever seen. His tears glisten, floating away from his eyes into the room. They crystallize and float around the room. And Yakov and Celestino rush to create nets from their talents to capture them.

One escapes their grasps and settles on top of Yuuri’s head before it pops, and out comes a swirling cloud of rain, thundering and pouring Viktor’s pain right over Yuuri and Yuuko. Viktor watches Yuuri scowl even deeper before he sobs and runs out of the banquet hall.

. 

Yuuri’s punishment for upsetting the Emperor is to get rained on for an hour, but Lilia comes to dissolve the cloud within half an hour. She doesn’t even admonish Yuuri. Instead, she picks him up and sets him on the bed and takes it upon herself to dry him with the fluffiest towels Yuuri has seen in the palace.

“It is a very stupid medal, but he can’t exactly help it. He’s not the brightest child,” she says after a long silence. She brushes Yuuri’s hair back. “But it is now your medal to wear. And you will have to make the best of it, so perhaps we should schedule a meeting tomorrow with your tutors and start working on your coins sooner rather than later. Does that sound like a fair compromise for being the mean lady that will make you wear it and smile while you do?”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything. But after staring at Lilia for a long while, he slams into her body with a hug and cries again.

She melts against him, running her long nails through his hair. His scalp welcomes the touch. Yuuri relaxes more with each sob, until eventually he feels himself fading into sleep. To his surprise, he dreams of poodles – poodles everywhere, all of them happy with their tails wagging and their fur shining under a bright overhead sun.

.

The Emperor calls Yuuri to the throne room the next day. Yuuri is escorted by Celestino, who takes a deep breath before opening the door and pointing with his chin. Yuuri is confused. He's seldom allowed to see any important people on his own. 

"You're on your own for this one. The Emperor summoned you, not me," Celestino explains, patting Yuuri's head. "Whatever you do, try not to make him cry? We had to pop all those little curses of his in the outdoors and, let me tell you, I would rather not deal with half the things he threw your way. You really hurt him, Yuuri. It was quite a tantrum. The cloud was nothing compared to the others. But, above all, you should still defend yourself now, okay? Fight, if you must, Yuuri."

Yuuri worries at his bottom lip. He nods obediently, taking a step into the room. 

Viktor is sitting on the throne, wearing his official red robes. The gold stitching curls all around his arms and follows down his torso. The lines slink all around the expanse of the fabric like golden snakes, and Yuuri can almost hear the imaginary hissing in his mind. The crown looks heavier than usual, set high on Viktor's head, even as his usual braid rests on his shoulder. Yuuri recognizes a veneer of icy coldness in the blue of Viktor's eyes. He lets the Emperor study him, unsure if he should come closer or stay by the door. Isabella, as the current Champion, stands behind Viktor, her eyes staring past Yuuri. She's the one to step around the throne first, taking slow steps down the stairs leading to the main floor of the court. With each step, the ground shakes, and Yuuri topples until he's on his knees, staring up at Isabella in the splendor of a gold suit of armor. A small, bright pearl shines as it dangles over the center of her forehead. It glows as she speaks. 

"Katsuki Yuuri of Hasetsu, Winter Talent, Rose of the Court and Champion of Emperor Viktor II, how do you understand your duties?"

Yuuri licks his lips tentatively, "I'm supposed to fight the Ice Spirit with my fellow Roses when my time comes."

"Wrong," Isabella bellows and the entire room quakes.

Yuuri curls in on himself, trying hard not to cry. Viktor watches petulantly, reaching for Makkachin to pull her onto the throne. 

"Your duty as a Champion and a Rose is to protect the Crown, to protect the Empire and, thus, to protect your Emperor. You have broken your solemn duty and failed to protect the Emperor. Worst, you have willingly hurt the Emperor, going so far as to use your strength to bring him injury rather than to protect him from it. Do you accept your charges?"

"I don't think I used that much force," Yuuri whispers, unsure if he is to defend himself or not. 

"To use any force at all against the Emperor is to deserve punishment," Isabella says. 

"But didn't he already punish me?" he whimpers. 

"But I have not," she continues, "get up. You must receive your punishment standing. As is customary, we will spar for the honor of the Emperor. Do not assume our friendship will keep me from defeating you, Yuuri. It is customary that a Rose should educate another Rose, and that a Champion should keep their own in line. There will be no insubordination under my leadership, and the Emperor will certainly not fall to any treachery under my supervision. Now, then, as the younger of the two, I will leave to you how we should begin."

 

**TBC**


	3. Acid

Yuuri drops to his knees, wrapping both arms around his head in hopes that he can protect himself from Isabella. The ground beneath him continues to shake, punching him in the stomach. Tears continue to cling to his eyes. Maybe, he thinks, if he just stays down Isabella will see that Yuuri means no harm. Then, she’ll leave him alone. Instead, she walks up to him until the gold boots of her armor press against his cheek.

“Get up,” she orders, just as snow starts falling from the ceiling. She stretches out a hand to feel the ice melt against her fingers. Isabella winces when she feels the coolness of the water sting her skin. The spot remains red for a long while. When a few drops hit her face, she tries to bite her cheek in pain. “This is your attack?”

“No,” he whimpers, looking up for the first time, “I don’t want to attack you. You’re my friend.”

Isabella brushes her hair over her shoulder.

“Then, I’m afraid you’re going to lose, Yuuri,” she whispers, pushing her hand forward until a small vine begins to grow from the glowing center of her palm. Yuuri watches the plant curl around Isabella’s fingers, looking more like thin, green worms. The vines grow fatter as they cascade down her torso to the floor, where one attaches to Yuuri’s hands, pulling him forward until he screams in pain. “These will hurt only for a little bit. Soon, your arms will either fall numb or you’ll succumb entirely to the potency of my venom. Be grateful that I am being so benevolent, Yuuri. It will be over quickly.”

“W—why are you hurting him?” Viktor asks in the background, small hands clutching at the crown on his head in distress.

Yuuri stays still. Isabella is right. Slowly, the pain dissipates into something else entirely. He doesn’t exactly feel numb, much less like he’s anywhere close to passing out, but he does feel something blanketing his body, like a prick of fire in his core that stretches beyond his immediate consciousness into the world. It’s the same feeling he has when he dances or when he fights, and he lets the disappointment and pain overcome him as the cold envelops him. It crystallizes around him, pure ice protecting him as it forms in blocks first around his legs and slowly creeps until even his head and the tips of Isabella’s vines are covered, too. She struggles, taking a step back, and finds she’s stuck. The snow begins to fall harder.

Viktor gasps when the first snowflake touches the throne and proceeds to burn a small hole through it. He scrambles off the chair and crawls underneath.

Yuuri hears Isabella scream from the safety of his cocoon.

When the doors burst open and Celestino runs inside, all he hears is Lilia yell, “acid snow? Who has ever seen such a thing? Someone make him stop before he strips all the gold off the walls!”

.

When Yuuri wakes up, Viktor is waiting patiently at the foot of his bed. He’s crawled all the way on top of the bed, his knees barely brushing Yuuri’s toes beneath a mountain of blankets. For the first time, Yuuri realizes he feels cold. His entire body shivers, and Viktor simply reaches for another blanket from the large pile next to him and dumps it over Yuuri with a bright smile.

“How do you feel?” he says softly, tipping his head to the side.

Yuuri clears his throat, frowning, “what are you doing here?”

Viktor blinks a couple of times, realizing slowly that the question is directed at him.

“Oh, you don’t remember, huh?” Viktor taps his chin patiently. “Well, you launched an acid snow attack that burned Isabella, effectively winning you the battle. So, I think Celestino explained that, per the rules, that means you’re now my Champion until another Champion defeats you. This isn’t something that’s happened before! And you’re really young, so everyone’s meeting to figure out what this means for any other Champion.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Yuuri tries again, coughing. Viktor crawls over the edge of the bed, reaching for some water to hand hm. Yuuri takes the cup gratefully, drinking slowly.

“Well, technically the Champion is supposed to protect me. You’re my Champion. You were passed out, but your responsibility stands. And, like I said, this has never happened before so they just kind of stuck me in here with you! That’s my bed over there. Makkachin just went for a walk. Are you feeling like you can move to your regular room? Once you’re able to do that, I’ll be able to move back, too!”

Yuuri nods slowly, wincing in pain before dropping back down on the bed. The sheets feels wet beneath his fingers.

“You built an ice cocoon!” Viktor chirps, clasping his hands. “It finally melted this morning. Do you want to move to my bed? It’s nice and warm and not wet.”

Yuuri shakes his head, still staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of how he ended up in his current position.

(When Celestino checks in on him later, he finds them playing a game of cards on Yuuri’s chest. He clears his throat, ordering the Emperor to take to his own bed, before Celestino sits by Yuuri’s side and explains in soft, hushed voices that he is now the Emperor’s Champion. Isabella is fine, recovering swiftly with some healing magic courtesy of a fellow Green Talent, and will be able to lead her time to victory in a year’s time. But, for now, Yuuri is the Champion until another Rose defeats him.

“So, I just need to let someone win?”

“You could,” Celestino pats his head. “But Lilia and I think you should wait a little so we can pad that medal a little more; we won’t have to explain much why a Champion wins so many coins so fast.”

Yuuri gapes, realizing what Celestino is saying: The longer he’s a Champion, the more decorated he can become.)

.

It’s not easy at first. Yuuri had never felt so crowded. But Viktor is impossible not to like, if not love.

They eat breakfast together and have classes together, just the two of them. Every so often, Viktor adds an ounce of gold to Yuuri’s medal, giving him a coin for random, unimportant events and forcing Lilia, Yakov, and Celestino to clap in makeshift, impromptu ceremonies in ridiculous places ranging from the dining table to the royal baths. Viktor likes to give Yuuri hugs in the morning, and while at first Yuuri tries to decline, he finds that Viktor’s hugs remind him of home so he stops. Within a year, Yuuri decides Viktor must be his best friend. There’s no secrets between them. Yuuri decides there’s nowhere he’d rather be than by Viktor’s side. He stops considering altogether the very idea of losing a battle to another Champion.

So, he doesn’t. The palace waves goodbye to Isabella and her Roses – kind Isabella, who forgives Yuuri for the scar on her cheek and hugs him gently. She kisses his forehead and carries him against her hip like when he was smaller, all the way to the very edges of the palace gates, and says, “Don’t let yourself become a sacrifice. Remain favored, Yuuri, for as long as you can.”

(“What do you think she meant?” Yuuri asks Viktor late that night as Viktor brushes his hair. Makkachin rests on Yuuri’s lap, a heavy, dead weight in deep sleep.

Viktor shrugs, hugging Yuuri, “maybe she meant to tell you to stay within my favor? People always seem to ask for my favor. _Your Highness, I seek your favor_ , and I have no idea what it means! But Yakov will usually tell me if the person should get a favor or not. And then I give them one, sometimes. I'm not very good at doing it all the time yet. If it will help you, though, I will give you lots of favors, Yuuri!"

“What does a favor from you look like?”

Viktor bites on his bottom lip, “it’s kind of hard to explain, but someday I’ll show you! Once I learn how to control my Talent enough to do it easily on command. I’ll make you the biggest, largest, most wonderful favor!”)

.

When Yuuri is nine, the next Champion of age asks to challenge him. He thinks of Isabella’s words.

Yuuri stands proudly behind Viktor, promising Celestino he won’t unleash acid snow again. He gives Viktor a large smile and Viktor reaches with his hands to press them on Yuuri’s cheeks before bumping their foreheads together.

“Keep my favor, Yuuri,” he says, “that way we can keep having sleepovers!”

Yuuri laughs, something happy whirling deep in his belly as he bounces down the throne steps to the middle of the banquet hall. His opponent is a Fire Talent twice his height, but Yuuri still manages to win. He leaves his challenger a step from frostbite on the floor. Celestino runs in a panic, rushing to his other Champion, and yells at Yuuri to control himself – _this is an exhibition, a show of strength, not a show of ultimate mercy!_ And Viktor stands on the top of his throne, staring down at Celestino as he says with his hands on his hips, “then you should tell all Champions to think carefully before they risk their lives to win my favor. Champion Katsuki is my chosen Champion and I have ordered him to win at all costs. At _all_ costs.”

(“I don’t really know what I said that had him so scared,” Viktor sighs as they sneak into the kitchen together. “I was just copying what Yakov says!”)

. 

When Yuuri is twelve, he’s challenged by an Empathic Talent. Viktor wears brand new, dark silk robes, sitting proudly with a new hairstyle and a large smile. He dips his fingers into a little tub of gelled oil, pressing it over his lips before he wraps his arms around Yuuri’s neck and pulls him towards him. Yuuri gapes when he feels Viktor’s lips on his cheek. It's the first time, for all his affection, that Viktor has ever kissed Yuuri: “Keep my favor, Yuuri.”

Yuuri descends from the steps in a daze. Every step, he turns to look at Viktor, who waves at him with a soft, encouraging smile. There's something in the glint in Viktor blue eyes that Yuuri can't read, but it makes him feel like he's a step away from the ocean, and that reminds him of home. It sets a flutter in his stomach. He barely registers the battle at first, until something switches in his brain. He feels the flick, swears by it, and it's a moment he'll never forget. 

_You are undeserving of the Emperor’s favor._

Yuuri shakes his head, wondering why the voice sounds so much like himself. The Empathic Talent’s eyes glow a deep purple, watching his every move.

“If you’re not going to move, this will be over too quickly,” Yuuri says, confident as he draws out his sword. His breath wines around the length, crystallizing it. “Shall we spar? – I promised Celestino I would be more civilized  and keep to formal battle. But, as the opponent, you get to choose how we battle.”

_Because the whole palace thinks you’re a savage._

Yuuri winces, taking a staggered step back. He rolls his shoulders, taking in a deep breath through his nose.

_The ice cube that can talk. No one ever loves a Winter Talent because everything they touch dies. What are you going to do? Slice him through with your little ice sword? – Control the weather? Celestino is tired of dealing with your insolence. Lilia saw that kiss. She will surely speak sternly with the Emperor and you will then lose his affection. What will your life be like then, without the Emperor to coddle you, keep you from battle, make people bow to you in respect of him, not of you._

“Yuuri?” Viktor stands from his throne, watching him nervously. “Are you feeling ill?”

“Is this you?” Yuuri whimpers, watching his opponent. “How do you do this? This isn’t fair. I don’t use you against you. Bring out your sword and fight. Don’t be a coward.”

“I don’t think anyone ever called you a coward for laying on the floor and crying yourself into releasing your Talent,” his opponent reminds him with an even tone of voice. Yuuri realizes with a sudden pang that no amount of years, no amount of training will ever erase the fact that he laid on the floor and showed his belly to Isabella in a moment of confusion and fear.  _Everyone knows you're a fraud._  “So, what are you going to do now?”

Yuuri drops his sword, kicking it with his foot.  _The fraud that won by default. The coward who stayed down._ He rolls his shoulders back, cracking his neck. He tries to take a few more deep breaths, as if each time he might release the voice pricking at his brain. 

“Yuuri,” Celestino yells, watching as the Royal Champion slowly moved his right leg in a circle. Yuuri’s hands rolled towards the ceiling as he undulated his body carefully, twisting his hips in mismatching motion with his legs. “Yuuri, no!”

“I, too, have an ability to control something inside you,” he whispers, watching as his opponent chokes. “I can freeze your blood.”

("It was horrific," Viktor whispers, tears still clinging to his eyes as he explains to Lilia what he'd seen. Yuuri stands quietly by the window of Viktor's bedroom, pretending that he can't hear as Viktor tells Lilia about his nightmares. Instead, he wrings his hands, shivering as he hears a voice yell in a void,  _monster_. )

.

The voice in Yuuri’s head doesn’t leave after the battle.

It catches him by surprise, much like a snake winding around his brain. It squeezes hard and eats him whole, and Yuuri feels like he never actually recovers – can’t recover. The first few days he spends most of his time in front of the mirror, dissecting his entire body, like he can see where he was pieced together again. It’s an identifiable before and after for him—the difference between feeling like a Rose and barely pretending he’s not drowning in perfume that now feels foreign on his skin.

He sits in front of the mirror, uncomfortable as his hair is slicked back and something soft and shiny that smells like lavender is spread over his puckered lips. Next to him, Mila squirms in her seat.

“Can you believe it?” she gushes, always happy to get dressed up for the crown. Her attendant braids her hair expertly, playing with the curls and letting some fall against her neck. Behind them, Sara hums loudly as she twirls in the new gown gifted to her by Viktor. All of them have new clothes. Emil and Mickey are wearing armor, but not Yuuri. While usually he wouldn’t mind looking different, the voice in his head prods: _The Emperor doesn’t see you as a fitting warrior_ , it says. And Yuuri knows it’s all lies. Viktor and Yuuri are friends, and Viktor would never do something to hurt Yuuri, much less mock him. But his eyes still study the silk gowns on Mila and Sara. He jealously imprints to memory the new, heavy armor made of sterling silver on Emil and Mikey. And, he wonders, _why not me?_ – Instead, his attendant slips a blue rose clip on his hair to hold the silk gauze that covers a portion of his face.

When he finally sees himself in the large mirror, he can’t recognize his face. For a moment, he panics. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Sara beams when another attendant brings out a crisp, white uniform with gold buttons and matching trimming. Her fingers run over the roses stitched all over the cuffs and shoulders, “It’s so beautiful!” 

Yuuri chews on the inside of his cheek, taking the garments to change behind some curtains.   

. 

Viktor could’ve been a Rose. Yuuri genuinely believes that if he’d been born to a common family like the rest of them, Viktor’s beauty alone would’ve betrayed his talents and forced him into the court. If not, surely someone with money would’ve married him. When he walks out of his bedroom, he’s dressed in long, shimmering silver robes. A portion of his hair has been piled high above his head, while the rest cascades over his shoulders and down his back along with expensive, decorative tulle. Instead of his usual heavy, gold crown, he has a small set of silver roses – five to be precise – clipped over the bun. Yuuri thinks he looks almost like a bride, which is precisely what Viktor is supposed to be today.

Yakov stands by the wall as Viktor walks down a line and studies the Roses. He stops by Mila and frowns, snapping his fingers. Some attendant stumbles and trips his way to Viktor and opens a small wooden chest from where Viktor pulls two diamond pendants for her hair. Mila squeals, clapping and jumping once the heavy pieces are on her head. Sara doesn’t fuss when Viktor doesn’t add anything to her ensemble. She preens with pride as the Emperor passes her, having inspected her and nodded self-assured and enchanted. Mickey and Emil end up having to stand very still as Viktor brands the royal seal over their chest plates.

When Viktor stops by Yuuri, he gasps. His mouth is perfectly heart-shaped.

“Yuuri, you look absolutely perfect! Oh, but let me fix your medal. Hm. Your lips are still a little chapped, too.

The attendant returns, shifting nervously from one foot to the other as he watches the Emperor reach for a small tub of scented oil. He dips one finger easily before patting Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri tries to stay very still and points his eyes towards the ceiling to avoid staring at Viktor’s long fingers spreading over his lips.

“There,” Viktor nods. “Let’s go!”

They follow quietly past the banquet hall and down the long corridor leading to the main entrance to the palace. Celestino meets them by the door and speaks to Yakov quietly for several minutes before they nod and Celestino steps out first. He hears the sound of some elephants’ trumpets, claps resounding as Yakov prepares to escort Viktor outside. Viktor turns to Yuuri briefly, giving him a friendly wink before he walks outside – and Yuuri is not prepared. The Emperor seldom sets foot outside the palace. Technically, Yuuri should go out first. He should be ready to fight and sacrifice his very life for the Emperor. Instead, Viktor walks softly out into the sun and the Roses follow. Yuuri keeps his hand on the gold hilt of the sword resting low against the side of his hip. His medal shines prominently on his chest: A poodle smiling to the world.

“Prince Christophe,” Viktor nods softly, making sure his chin angles just a bit to the right and his long lashes fan. “Welcome to Hasetsu. I hope the ride from Opa wasn’t too tiring.”

Prince Christophe strolls towards the first steps of the castle, bowing deeply in front of Viktor. Yuuri has a minute to discern that the Prince is perhaps some two to three years older than the Emperor. He wonders if this is a match. For years, he’s heard Yakov talk about adding a principality to the kingdom as a show of strength against Korine and to build confidence in Viktor’s reign. Marriage would be the easiest way to accomplish Yakov’s goal, and Opa would be an excellent strategic partner – not the least because it bordered Korine.

“Your Highness,” he says in greeting, but keeps his eyes on the Roses. Behind him, a pair of attendants excitedly step forward to pet the couple of elephants the Prince has brought as a present for the Emperor’s zoo of exotic animals. Yuuri locks eyes with the Prince, hand still on the hilt of his sword. “Why, I had been told your garden was perhaps the most beautiful one in the world, but I didn’t realize what wonders you had!”

“Ah, yes,” Viktor grins, “although I have to admit that I did choose my most beautiful Rose to welcome you. It just so happens that Champion Katsuki’s class has some of our most prized specimens, too. You can well see why.”

Yuuri stays still for the duration of Viktor’s introduction, bowing his head to hide the faint flush spreading from his face down to his neck.

“Champion Katsuki,” Prince Christophe grins, stepping around Viktor to stretch out a hand. “I have heard much about you. You are said to be very apt with the sword. If I may, I hope there will be an opportunity during my stay to witness it firsthand.”

Yuuri gives Prince Christophe a gloved hand, bowing his head elegantly as he says, “With all due respect, Your Royal Highness, but I only draw out my sword with the intent of protecting His Imperial Highness. I’m not so sure you want to witness my swordsmanship firsthand.”

Viktor gapes next to him, clearing his throat.

“Surely, Yuuri, you would consider an exception, perhaps an observation battle for Prince Christophe, who has traveled so far to come see me,” Viktor whispers, wringing his hands against one of the many layers of his robes. “I’m sure Yuuri would be honored to spar with you, Prince Christophe.”

“If my Emperor commands it,” Yuuri responds, cold and formal.

Viktor chews on his bottom lip, “Yuuri. I suppose if you won’t otherwise, then I must command it.”

“As you wish, Your Imperial Highness,” Yuuri nods, taking a step back and away from the Emperor and the Prince. The other four Roses watch quietly, staying in line. Yuuri looks conspicuous behind them, but he continues to stand upright.

. 

The voice makes Yuuri blind to a lot of things. He’ll understand that later. But in his semi-solitary existence as a Rose, he barely notices what he can’t see by focusing on what he shouldn’t hear. As Viktor’s Champion, he must be with him always. Typically, his role had never felt like a chore. He’s been doing it for so long now – ever since he defeated Isabella in battle. But he never expected he’d have to stand silently behind Viktor as he was courted by a foreign Prince. They speak in riddles, referring to something or other that Yuuri can’t piece together. There are entire sentences said in a language Yuuri can’t understand. He decides it’s better to not hear than to just pretend, but his very body is tense as they walk down long hallways with dark corners with looming shadows. His hand stays close to his sword the entire time.

“I can see you’re very smitten,” Prince Christophe says to Viktor. “It’s obvious and I have to say I can easily see why – having now seen in person what you’ve described in letters makes everything fall into perfect place in my mind, my dear friend.”

“Is it? I thought I was doing well. He most certainly hasn’t said a word to me about it,” Viktor sighs dramatically before switching again into that language Yuuri can’t understand.

“He very well won’t,” Prince Christophe laughs, “he works for you!”

Yuuri stumbles for a second, cursing silently under his breath. Viktor turns to him, frowning.

“Yuuri, are you alright?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness, I’m fine. I just, I almost tripped is all. I think I’m feeling a bit off today.”

“If you’re ill, you should rest, Yuuri,” Viktor rushes over to him, pressing a soft, cool hand against his forehead.

Yuuri gulps hard, feeling his hart hammer once, then twice. He takes a step back, bowing. He doesn't miss the flash of hurt in Viktor's eyes. 

“I will do that, then,” he says. Viktor has found both love and life. He has someone he cares about and who his dreams don't twist into a monster. In Prince Christophe, he has longevity and opportunity. Prince Christophe is older, with resources that far surpass Yuuri's one-man abilities. He also has wealth and beauty to match Viktor's many charms. As Viktor's friend, Yuuri knows he should be happy. Instead, he realizes that he feels miserable to the point of ill. And that sends the voice in his head shouting, _selfish._ “I’ll ask one of the Champions to replace me promptly once I’m able to escort you back to your room.”

“No need. Christophe can surely take care of me for the five minutes it will take to change the guard considering he’s soon to be my fiancé—”

Prince Christophe coughs into his hand, grinning as he steps behind Viktor and nudges him gently. Yuuri almost draws out his sword when he sees Viktor stumble, but refrains.

“I think, Viktor, that your Champion would feel even more ill if he had to leave you here unattended. Perhaps we should all just walk back?” Prince Christophe offers Viktor his arm, which the Emperor takes after some consideration. Yuuri pretends he doesn’t hear when Prince Christophe dips down and whispers in Viktor’s ear: “Do you really want your beloved to know that you may soon not be available to even the slightest of his potential advances?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chris,” Viktor scoffs, but softens as he directs his attention to Yuuri, “Ah, of course, Yuuri, lead us."

Yuuri tries to school his face into something akin to neutral. It wouldn’t serve for the Emperor to see that Yuuri is hurt – after all, for close to four, almost five years, they have been friends. Even if Viktor didn’t feel he could trust Yuuri with the knowledge that he probably loved one of the Palace’s staff members, he could at least believe that Yuuri wouldn’t betray him and tell anyone else. But maybe Yuuri had spent too much time lying to himself that Viktor cared for him as anything more than a bodyguard with a fancy title and a large medal. He walked ahead quickly, feeling just slightly more nauseous by the second. Here was his nightmare. Surely he would now lose Viktor's favor, if he hadn't already.

**TBC**


	4. Frigid

When Yuuri wakes up, he finds Viktor sitting patiently by the end his bed. Viktor presses his hands over his long robes, trying to smooth out a few wrinkles, and barely notices Yuuri is now awake. Yuuri clears his throat, blinking sleepily. In the haze of sleep, Viktor looks even softer than usual, like he’s being painted with the brush of winter. The image leaves Yuuri a little breathless, even as he can’t quite bring everything into focus.

“Viktor?” he croaks, barely registering that there’s a thin veneer of snow sticking to his eyelashes.

Viktor snaps his head up, smiling brightly, “Yuuri! You’re awake.”

“Is something wrong?” Yuuri asks, still slightly disoriented. He rubs his eyes and startles when he feels the wetness of melted snow rolling down his cheeks.

“I was just worried about you,” Viktor says, sheepish. He crawls over to Yuuri’s side until they can share the same pillow. Yuuri turns on his side so their noses are barely an inch apart and clears his throat. This close, he can make out the contours of Viktor’s face. “Celestino said you had a fever, so I snuck in here, but it’s really cold so I kept throwing blankets on you…”

Yuuri huffs, kicking off his blankets to throw them over a shivering Viktor.

“I don’t register cold temperatures the same way you do,” Yuuri reminds him, rolling a few blankets to cover the back of Viktor’s head. Viktor scrunches up his nose. “If it’s as cold as you say, then we need to keep _you_ warm. All I need is some rest. You shouldn’t have come in here in case what I have is contagious.”

“That’s okay,” Viktor winks, “if I get sick, too, we can just get better together, just like this.”

“Or,” Yuuri chuckles, both annoyed and touched, “I can get better and you can go back to your room so you don’t get sick in the first place. We don’t really know much about Winter Talents, Viktor. Who knows if we get sick differently, or—”

Viktor pouts and shuffles under the covers, trying to huddle closer to Yuuri, “Are you kicking me out? Don’t kick me out, Yuuri. It’s not my fault I like spending time with you.”

“Where’s the other Champion assigned to you?” Yuuri huffs.

“I told him to go away, that I had every intention of being here, so I figured there was no need for another Champion. I’ve been good, too. I waited very patiently at the foot of the bed.”

“I’m sick, Viktor,” Yuuri whines, stretching out his legs as he rolls onto his back. He blinks a couple of times, trying to bring the ceiling into focus without his glasses. “I can’t protect you right now.”

“There’s nothing to protect me from right now, though. I’m in the palace. I’m always here. This is where I’m safe, not to mention I’m not exactly a damsel in constant distress, Yuuri. If anything, you are defenseless and I am a very good friend because I’m here to protect you.”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, sighing deeply, “Are you saying you don’t need a Champion? – Because if I’m out of a job, we should probably let Celestino know now.”

“No. I’m saying we should nap,” Viktor groans, stretching an arm from under the mountain of blankets to wrap over Yuuri’s waist. “So, now we sleep.” – He closes his eyes tightly and, when he hears Yuuri shuffle, adds, “ _Sleep_ , Yuuri. Now.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, stifling a yawn before he closes his eyes and falls asleep next to Viktor’s warmth.

.

 

The second time Yuuri wakes up, it’s to Celestino tapping his arm repeatedly. Yuuri wakes and reaches for his glasses before he realizes Viktor’s heavy weight is no longer by his side. Celestino comes into focus like a tornado, just a whirl of color and hair that shifts too rapidly for Yuuri’s eyes to catch him.

“The Emperor has gone missing,” he informs Yuuri, practically dragging the Champion into a sitting position. “Are you listening to me, Yuuri? – The Emperor is nowhere to be found. Apparently, he dismissed the Champion on duty, telling him he’d rather be in his room until you recovered. And then when the Regent went looking for him, he was gone. Yakov is a minute from losing what little is left of his hair. He’s ordered everyone look everywhere. I told him you’re sick, though, so you’re not ordered to join the search party, but I wanted to let you know—”

Yuuri nods, already pushing his way out of bed. His legs feel weak, but he stays upright regardless and reaches for his sword.

He feels the weight against his hip. It’s comforting—a nice reminder that nothing can hurt him. He knows that he’s still not at his best. Sleeping has helped him fight some of the remaining fever, but his body still aches, and there’s still an overwhelming sense of unease that he can’t shake. It’s different, nothing like the internal voice in his head, which now rasps softly that he has failed to protect Viktor. That’s probably not a lie, even if he wasn’t tasked to keep Viktor safe while sick.

“I’ll look for him, too,” Yuuri rubs his forehead, barely feeling the same faint heat from earlier. He slips on his kid leather gloves, testing the resistance of his fingers. “He was here earlier, but I guess he ran off somewhere. I thought he’d stay still for once. I apologize for not mentioning it as soon as it happened, but I really trusted him to be good.”

Bewildered, Celestino follows Yuuri to the door: “Did he says why he was out of his room? Did he wander off by himself?”

“It’s Viktor,” Yuuri shakes his head, “he never says anything that he’s not willing to let other people know, so, wherever he is, he wanted to be alone. Really alone. I’ll start searching the lower floors, but I suggest we search as far out as the eastern gardens and the gate leading to the southern forests; has anyone already looked in the kitchens? Is Prince Christophe accounted for?”

“I don’t think anyone has bothered Prince Christophe so far this afternoon. The kitchens are packed with people preparing for the banquet tonight. I doubt they wouldn’t say something. I just don’t understand that boy. Go where you must, Yuuri,” Celestino sighs, curls bouncing as he runs off in the opposite direction. “Report soonest. You don’t want to be in even more trouble once we explain to the Regent that you let the Emperor run around unescorted after seeing him here.”

.

The threat of a potential punishment sends Yuuri reeling. He drags himself down long corridors and steep staircases to search the lower floors.

The lower floors are usually off-limits, mostly because their lack of use since the death of the last Emperor leaves them perpetually dusty and dirty. It’s the half of the castle that requires constant repair now, but everyone knows the rehabilitation of the set of banquet halls and ballrooms is just not within the tight budget pre-determined by Regent Yakov. Their use is also just _not_ within his plans for the Emperor. In Yakov’s mind, Viktor is still too young for large, ostentatious celebrations, and in need of protection – enough that it makes more sense to invest money into the Roses fund.

That doesn’t keep Viktor from wanting to constantly sneak into the rooms, pulling Yuuri along with him so he can have an audience for the stories no one else likes to remember. As Yuuri reaches the jade floors of the Hallway of Mirrors, he remembers that the Dawn Room is Viktor’s favorite. That’s where he can sit in front of the portrait of his mother, watching as the morning accentuates the glint in her eyes and the faint pink of her lips. Given the time, though, Yuuri trots past most of the rooms, only stopping once he reaches the Sunset Gallery.

His heart is thumping hard.

Yuuri pauses to rest and take a few deep breaths. He presses his forehead against the heavy sterling silver door, feeling with his fingers the swirls of intricate designs molded into the metal. It reminds him of the medal hanging heavy around his neck, which he touches with his free hand like a reminder that he needs to find Viktor. He won’t be at peace otherwise (and neither will the rest of the castle).

Yuuri pushes the heavy door open and finds Viktor looking up through long, thick lashes at Prince Christophe. The light of sunset washes over them both in orange and gold, and Yuuri can make out through the remaining shadows the way Prince Christophe’s hand cups the side of Viktor’s face and chin like a gentle caress. Yuuri knows intuitively that he’s interrupted something, or that he’s about to interrupt a special moment, and despite all of that – or maybe because of it – he kicks the door closed with the heel of his boot.

The door slams with a loud bang that sends Viktor looking away and towards him. Yuuri feels momentary pride.

“Yuuri!” Viktor grins, hair bouncing behind him as he rips away from Christophe to bound over to Yuuri. He throws his arms around Yuuri’s neck and, instinctively Yuuri catches him. They spin with the strength of Viktor’s weight. Viktor’s bubbly laugh fills Yuuri’s ear as the Emperor rubs their noses together. “Yuuri, you’re all better!”

Yuuri sets Viktor down, removing his arms from his neck.

“Yuuri?”

“Do you realize the entire palace is looking for you?” Yuuri explodes, his heart feeling like it’s leaking through his chest. He recognizes that there’s pain hidden in the prickling memory of Viktor in Christophe’s hold. “How could you be so selfish?”

Viktor’s bottom lip wobbles as he takes a step back.

“I told you I had told the other Champion to not wo—”

“—And that’s the problem, Viktor!” Yuuri pushes his hair back, feeling more exasperated by the moment. “I was sick. I was tired. I just needed a break. If you really didn’t want a Champion with you, couldn’t you just sit still for a couple of hours? Instead, I’m still sick and working along with all the other Roses trying to locate you while you’re here trying to sneak kisses with the Prince of a not-yet friendly country!”

“You’re still feeling sick?” Viktor gasps, trying to reach for Yuuri’s forehead to feel his temperature. Yuuri slaps his hand away. “Yuuri,” Viktor sniffles.

“Why are you like this?” Yuuri hisses, pacing the room. “When are you going to grow up?”

“Why are _you_ like this?” Viktor counters, drawing into himself. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

“And you!” Yuuri yells, pointing at the prince looking at the exchange with confusion. “You’re older than he is by a full two years. How can you take advantage of a child? What were you even thinking of doing to him?”

“I am _not_ a child!” Viktor interrupts, stomping his foot on the ground. “And I take offense that you would refer to me, your Emperor, as anything but your commanding officer. I also don’t appreciate the implication behind your words. Chris is my friend and he would never hurt me.”

“I am here at his request,” Christophe shrugs. “He asked me a question and I responded.”

“I _asked_ him to teach me something,” Viktor whispers softly. “Nothing bad was going to happen to me, Yuuri, and most certainly not without my consent.”

Yuuri shakes his head, “it doesn’t matter, then. My apologies to His Royal Highness, Prince Christophe. I just need to get you, I mean, His Imperial Highness back to Regent Yakov.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor shakes his head, almost horrified at the thought that Yuuri would take him to Yakov. Yuuri feels only marginally guilty.

“Your Imperial Highness, I beg you return to your chambers.”

“I will not. And please, call me Viktor, Yuuri… call me Vitya, like always.”

“I fear I can’t take such liberties anymore, not considering the orders I have been given by you, my lord. Come along now.”

Viktor stands his ground: “No, Yuuri. I’m staying right here until we clear everything up!”

“No one is staying here,” Celestino interrupts, stepping into the room. He turns to Yuuri and says, “Yuuri, you should’ve reported immediately.”

“I apologize,” Yuuri bows deeply. “I only just found His Imperial Highness and His Royal Highness here. I was trying to be discreet, but I suppose being ill has made me irritable. I will escort His Imperial Highness back to his chambers.”

“And there he will remain,” Celestino addresses Viktor, “under the care of yet another Champion until Regent Yakov speaks to him. And he _will_ remain under the oversight of another Champion for as long as Champion Katsuki is suspended.”

“Suspended?” Viktor cries. “What does that mean?”

“It means Champion Katsuki will be on bedrest and, thereafter, assessed for continued suitability to be the standing Champion, given the transgressions of today. Your Imperial Highness has put everyone at great risk, including Champion Katsuki.”

“But it’s not Yuuri’s fault. He wasn’t the one looking after me!”

“But wasn’t he?” Celestino sighs. “The moment you dismissed your other Champion and decided to impose yourself on Champion Katsuki _without_ him telling anyone else, he accepted the responsibility of looking after His Imperial Highness, who then proceeded to get lost for a considerable amount of time, only to be found here, under questionable circumstances with a visiting monarch. Had your honor been tarnished—”

“Why do you all talk about me like that?” Viktor cries, big round tears falling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to be kept away from Yuuri. None of you can order it. I forbid it.”

“Viktor,” Christophe steps forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps you should just do as they say for now.”

“Yuuri, escort the Emperor. I will have a word with Prince Christophe.”

“Yes, Sir,” Yuuri’s back snapped straight. He marched forward, not pausing to look at Viktor crying behind him.

(It takes a lot of self-control not to accept the hug Viktor offers when they reach his bedroom. Yuuri has little faith that he will be kept as Viktor’s champion. There’s no point in continuing with his attachment, not when he might soon only see Viktor from the sidelines of the court.)

.

Mila is the one who leads Prince Christophe to Yuuri’s bedroom. She knocks on the door, grinning brightly when Yuuri peeks through a sliver, and says, “I come in peace and without the Emperor.” – And Yuuri should’ve known that was a conspicuous enough statement to _not_ open the door. It’s Mila, though, a fellow Rose from his class. As far as Yuuri is concerned, Roses, especially those from the same class, are family. Yuuri would willingly walk into a trap for family.

“Well, here’s my offering. Don’t kill him,” Mila underscores, whistling away as she departs.

Christophe’s lips curve into a smile, “I thought it’d be good for us to talk. No offense, but I’m starting to get this—this _cold_ vibe from you. And I realize that might sound like a bad pun, given your _condition_.”

“My condition?” Yuuri practically spits, measuring the word in his mouth. It leaves an insipid taste with him. “You mean my talent.”

“In my country, people like you have conditions, not talents. A talent shouldn’t impact every aspect of your daily living. It merely enhances certain abilities, but in your case, as in the case of others like you, your condition impacts your susceptibility to temperature. And, while I do think your nice coloring helps people forget that your very existence isn’t normal, it’s but a pretty veneer. Below all of this, you’re still just a little _too_ different. Thinking about it now, I probably should be very careful with what I say so I don’t end up dead. Or frozen. Or both.”

“You came to insult me?” Yuuri arches an eyebrow, leaning against the side of his door.

“No, no, no! I came to talk and make friends, but I seem to have offended you somehow and for that I apologize. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind joining me for a cup of tea in my chambers where I have the protection of some five or six attendants? – I promise to keep my hands to myself. My self-preservation skills are higher than my attraction to brunettes.”

Yuuri frowns, hand falling to the hilt of his sword, “you dare make a joke about that after I caught you transgressing against the Emperor’s virtue?”

“I see this isn’t the right audience, but I assure you I was never going to do anything at all to Viktor! He’s like a little brother to me! And I have the most beautiful of lovers waiting for me back home. Besides, he’s head over heels for one person only and that’s—”

“Obvious,” Yuuri whispers. He’s sure his face betrays the sadness he feels for his friend. “Poor Viktor. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Are they really so low in rank that there is no hope for Viktor at all?”

“Apparently not, obvious, I mean,” Christophe whistles low and steady. Yuuri cocks his head to a side, confused. Christophe continues, saying, “I think you’ll like our talk. It’ll be good for you and for me. Hopefully you won’t see me as the enemy after. I really am on your side, and on Viktor’s, of course.”

Yuuri scoffs, “I don’t know about that. Talking over tea. You wanted to duel with me, didn’t you? – Have you a good sword?”

Christophe gasps, clasping his hands together, “a chat over a spar? I would love that! _Oh,_ Viktor is going to be very disappointed when I tell him he missed it!”

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, walking out into the hallway, “are you sure?”

Christophe laughs nervously, following behind him, “should I not be excited?”

“Not really, but lucky for you, I have pretty good control over my condition,” Yuuri winks.

“That was a joke, wasn’t it?” Christophe claps his hands, “I knew we’d get along! You know, for an ice cube, you’re really not as frigid as I thought you’d be—oh, too far? Sorry. If it makes you feel better, I’m a Summer Talent myself so I'm always hot, if you catch my drift…”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the story, please consider leaving a comment to help keep me going on the busiest week ever so I can come back with lots more content to get us through the last tiny itty bit of the pining years before we get to their young romance and just enjoy fluffy, happy, magical Viktuuri. <3


	5. Melted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me at cuttlemefishwrites.tumblr.com. :)

It’s a fallacy to call it a spar, even before it happens. 

(It ends up being more of a light practice session, more formal than anything Yuuri has ever learned. For all that Prince Christophe has a big mouth, his training is only good compared to royalty. Next to a Rose, he’s weak and slow, fighting with the technique of a fencer, not a warrior. It makes sense. Price Christophe won’t ever be expected to save anyone, not even Viktor once they’re married. It leaves a sour taste in Yuuri’s mouth that makes him worry and fret almost instantly. Once Yuuri is gone, another Rose will step up and defend Viktor. Surely, Yuuri has nothing to worry about! – But he can’t help it. His stomach is a mess; he can’t even register what Christophe (“Please, just call me Chris.”) has been saying down the hallway.)

After a quick stop by the Prince’s rooms, Yuuri brings Christophe to the training room usually inhabited by the Roses and says, “usually I practice outdoors. It tends to make for easier clean-up with my talents.”

“Interesting,” Christophe hums, walking down the line-up of equipment hanging on the wall. He stops by a sword with a large, pale blue opal encrusted in the pommel of the hilt. He smiles, like he’s found something precious, and turns to Yuuri, “Your sword? A beauty, just like you.”

Yuuri smirks, rolling his eyes as his boots dig into the large blue mat before them, “Not mine. And I wouldn’t touch it if I were you. The Rose that owns Big Blue is territorial.”

“Oh,” Christophe takes a step back, studying the other swords, bows, and shields. He points to a whip and Yuuri shrugs. Every Rose chooses their own weapon to master. It’s not for Yuuri to judge. Eventually, Christophe points to another sword. “This one. I’m sure of it. This one must be yours. Rose gold. Must be heavy. Is it durable? I her gold scratches easily.”

“None of those are mine,” Yuuri chuckles, making half circles with his feet to warm up. 

“Then what will you be using?” Christophe huffs, feeling put off as he begins to pace to the opposite side of the mat.

Yuuri rolls his neck and pushes his shoulders back. 

“Patience, Your Highness.”

Christophe crosses his arms. Yuuri can feel his eyes on him as he reaches for the side of his belt. He pulls out a hilt without a blade.

“Is that hilt fashioned from marble?” Christophe whistles.

Yuuri shakes his head, his cheeks heating up. He knows he must look a little embarrassed. It was a gift from the crown. It’s also the most expensive thing Yuuri will ever own, and he cares for it much like a pet, sometimes feeling foolish that he would even consider talking to a fancy hilt.

“May I step close to inspect it?”

“By all means, Your Highness,” Yuuri holds out the hilt for Christophe to see. His sword hilt is fashioned from white nephrite jade. It’s set with 6 diamonds, some 60 emeralds and 161 rubies, each surrounded with fine, gold wire inlay designed in the shape of flowers. The treatment of the stone is precious, with a technique known only by craftsmen outside of the kingdom.

Christophe holds the hilt, arching an eyebrow. He touches the strange protruding bottom.

“It’s heavy. It is a hilt? What a strange shape. What does it do?”

“Nothing until I form the blade,” Yuuri explains, taking it back carefully.

“A present from Viktor, I presume? – It’s lovely. Shall we begin?”

Yuuri takes in a deep breath. He takes the hilt tight into his hand, raising the small stub at the bottom. He starts out slow, breath coming out thick and white. It spirals and crystallizes, slowly forming into a thin, flat stretch of ice.

Christophe claps, amazed as he watches Yuuri fashion his sword out of ice.

“Won’t that be too thin?” he yells across the room.

“Why don’t you find out?” Yuuri laughs, making figures in the air to test his new sword. “Start.”

.

The blades enter into conversation slowly. Yuuri can advance and circle Christophe in the time it takes the prince to counter-attack. Mostly, they advance and strike, and based on Christophe footwork, Yuuri can tell he expected a fencing match, less than a spar. Yuuri decides to copy his form, advancing and retreating in time with his opponent. Slowly, they fall into a rhythm, and it begins to feel more like a dance.

Christophe sounds just a little winded as he speaks, “You’re very fast.”

“This isn’t fast at all,” Yuuri smiles, pushing Christophe back with some particularly swift footwork. He steps back, waiting for Christophe to recover. “Is this how you usually spar in Opa?”

“The altitude here is surely getting to me,” Christophe jokes, lifting his sword just in time for his blade to crash against Yuuri’s with a loud bang. The force of their blades smashing together is enough to chip a small scrap of ice, and Christophe looks surprised. Yuuri doesn’t pay it any mind. A scratch here and there is normal, but his work is of excellent quality. His magic won’t falter without reason. “So, you and the Emperor are close, I take it?”

“Define close.”

“I’m not sure I can. You’re speeding up on me.”

Yuuri shakes his head, “Should I slow down, Your Highness?”

“Of course not! How insulting!” Christophe laughs. “Why don’t you tell me how your sword works, instead.”

“It’s connected to me through my Talent. Being a Winter Talent with ice elements is particularly helpful for the construction of particular structures. It will last for as long as I want it to, minus a couple of chips here and there like you saw.”

“I once knew a very talented Winter Talent, only she used her magic less for the fashioning of weapons and more for that of clothing,” Christophe muses to himself, almost tripping as he retreats. “She lived in one of the provinces at the border. Her fabrics were very popular during the summer festivals.”

“I hear Opa has a lot of those.”

Christophe nods, stepping up so their blades match suspended for a while. Their brows furrow with the strength of the pressure they exert on their swords to push their opponent back, but Christophe seems unwilling to lose. Yuuri respects that. While his opponent may not be very skilled, he’s strong, and he’s unwilling to step back and outside the bounds of the mat.

“You should come visit Opa and see for yourself.”

“I’m not allowed to leave the palace, much less the empire.”

“I’m sure if you asked, Viktor would bring you,” Christophe winks. “Speaking of Viktor…”

Yuuri turns to look over his shoulder, losing his footing when Christophe uses the opportunity to push ahead. He can feel himself slipping back, until Christophe’s arm wraps around his waist, keeping him extended in the air. Yuuri holds tight to the hilt of his sword, even as the blade melts into a poodle of water by his feet.

Viktor’s jaw is locked tight as he stares at them.

“Viktor!” Christophe greets, “Did you see me win against Rose Katsuki? It was such a fun match!”

Viktor doesn’t bother to say anything, he simply turns on his heel and runs out of the room. His hair band snaps from the force, letting his hair loose behind him. Yuuri watches the scene in surprise. When he’s got his balance back, he exchanges looks with Christophe, who simply brushes his hair back and says, “Really? Go after him. He’s upset.”

“But why?” Yuuri asks.

Christophe rolls his eyes, “Why do you think? Because he loves you, of course! And you’re both obviously too young to realize that it’s mutual.”.

 .

Yuuri finds Viktor alone in the throne room, curling up into himself on his throne. His cheek is pressed against his knees as he pretends to stare at the walls. His crown is on the ground. The Rose charged with his keep stands behind the throne, keeping tabs on Yuuri’s every move the moment he steps into the room. Yuuri raises his hands in defeat, kneeling as he says, “Your Imperial Highness, may I have your permission to approach?”

“No,” Viktor says petulantly, glaring at Yuuri. It shocks Yuuri with how much conviction he says, “You have hurt your Emperor, Yuuri. You should be punished, not rewarded.”

Behind him, the Rose stands tall, beginning to point her sickle towards him. Yuuri can see her digging her heels into the ground in preparation for a fight.  

“But I won’t have you punished,” Viktor waves the Rose to stand down. He sighs longingly, letting his hair drape over his face. In the dim light of the room, Viktor looks even younger than usual.

Yuuri looks back down at the ground, clearing his throat: “It wasn’t my intention to hurt my Emperor. I realize that might not mean much. I seem to keep messing up a lot recently and I will understand if that means I must work to earn my Emperor’s trust again.”

“Indeed,” Viktor scoffs. “But this, this is betrayal I would not have expected from you, Yuuri, far beyond a simple mistake. I don’t know that I can forgive you. Perhaps it was foolish of me to look for you, but I figured it would do us both good to talk. Fool I was to think that you were upset over me—”

“I assure you, Your Highness, that it was but a friendly spar. I fear you’ve misread the situation, Sir. Prince Christophe talks only of you! I can name the number of times your name was mentioned by him! Honest. You should have no concerns over the prospects of a long and worthwhile engagement…”

“Fuck the engagement!” Viktor roars. And his Talent vibrates throughout the room, sending the entire hall shaking. The Rose behind him looks frightened for a minute. Viktor presses both his hands over his mouth, shocked at his own outburst. His lips shake as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

Yuuri doesn’t waste a minute before he stands, rushing over to the throne.

“Stay away from me!” Viktor yells, a gust of wind slapping Yuuri back with so much strength that he rolls all the way to the door. He spots the Rose looking sheepish and he knows almost immediately that wasn’t Viktor, it was her and the strength of her sickle.

Yuuri pushes himself to his feet.

“Vitya,” he breathes out. “I can’t do that.”

Viktor sniffles as he looks up at Yuuri.

“Oh, sure you can, Yuuri. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? – To leave me. To stop having to be constantly responsible for me. I’m an annoyance to you, some duty you’ve been forced to take on because you were so unlucky as to end up with a tattoo on your wrist that binds you to me, just like the rest of them all! And I was the fool that thought maybe, just maybe if I was kinder, if I behaved, if I showed you the best of me, maybe, just maybe you’d come to love me just as much as I love you.”

Behind Viktor, the Rose gasps, wavering in her form for a moment before she schools her face into something cold and neutral again.

Yuuri’s throat feels dry.

They’re both too young to talk about love.

“But I do,” Yuuri rubs his face, frustrated as he tries to take another tentative step. “Vitya, I do love you.”

The Rose looks uneasy, her sickle already standing high and waiting for just the right moment again. Viktor lifts his hand almost instantly.

“Do you really, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nods, “I do. I realize I’m not worthy of you. I’ll never be able to have you. You’re so above my station, so far above my means—”

“Yuuri, none of that matters,” Viktor whispers, sitting up on his throne. For the first time, Yuuri can see that Viktor’s not wearing any shoes. His toes peek from under his long robes. Yuuri knows he shouldn’t hold any hope, but there’s something so beautiful about the way Viktor’s face lights up that he can’t bring himself to dampen their joy. _It does matter_ , he wants to say, but then his eyes spot the faint pink dusting the very tip of Viktor’s nose—the one sign of his tears—and he can’t. “Oh, Yuuri!” Viktor cries, running down the long expanse of the court.

Yuuri trots towards him as well, arms outstretched to catch Viktor when he throws himself in the air. The spin with the strength of their mutual excitement, their foreheads pressed together.

“Yuuri,” Viktor bites his bottom lip shyly, “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too,” Yuuri whispers back, breathing hard.

Behind them, the Rose clears her throat, tapping the staff of her sickle against the ground.

“Rose,” Viktor orders, a grin forming on his lips, “I order you to forget everything you saw tonight. If you follow the orders of your Emperor this week, I will be sure to give you a very big favor.”

The Rose gasps, bowing her head.

. 

The difficulty behind loving Viktor is that Yuuri has to be careful not to get caught with his emotions on full display. It helps that Christophe becomes a mutual friend. They spar daily and Christophe tells Yuuri about his actual love back home. On Christophe’s last morning, he says as they stroll through the gardens with Viktor and his temporary Rose: “Honestly, marriages of convenience are such a conundrum. But it seems we have a good arrangement for ourselves in this one. Viktor and I feel nothing but brotherly affection for one another and I think we’ll both be very happy in our respective countries with our respective companions. I, for one, do not intend to hold him to a monogamous marriage. It’s not even strategically intelligent for either of us. After all, we desperately need alliances.”

Yuuri nods, pretending to listen even as he tries to debate whether to cut a set of peonies or daisies for Viktor. Viktor sits by him on the grass, chin resting on his shoulder as he worries at his bottom lip. Yuuri eventually decides for daisies, plucking a few to start on a crown. When Viktor recognizes what Yuuri is doing, he gasps, hugging him tight and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Christophe sighs dramatically, “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“No,” Yuuri smiles, testing the beginnings of the crown on Viktor’s head.

“Well, no matter,” Christophe huffs, deciding to rest under the shade of a tree. “Did I already tell you that my Alexis is a musician? He’s composing an opera.”

“Yes,” Yuuri and Viktor say in unison.

“It’s rude to ignore a guest,” Christophe tries again.

Viktor and Yuuri giggle, saying together, “we know.”

.

After a couple of weeks, their lives regain some bit of normalcy as Yuuri returns to his station as Viktor’s Champion. Because the library is usually quiet and isolated, they take to spending a lot of time there together squished in the love seat by the window. They pick books and read to each other. To explain their sudden predilection, they try to pick books on geography and history. Sometimes, they pick medical books. But, most of all, Viktor likes books that mention the different catalogued talents around the world. His eyes light up when he sees information on Winter Talents, like he might just be able to find a recipe to keep Yuuri’s body temperature at an acceptable range that won’t threaten to give him frostbite if he stays close for too long.

Now that fall has come, it’s not strange for Viktor to add layers to his daily outfits. It’s a relief that allows them to hug and cuddle more. For Yuuri, who for so long has remained touch starved, it’s a welcome change that makes him fall more in love with Viktor.

“Yuuri, look what I found!” Viktor says one afternoon, running back to their corner.

“What’s that?” Yuuri furrows his brows, setting aside his book on the history of Hasetsu.

“It’s a book on Winter Talents!” Viktor chirps, his excitement bubbling as he hugs the book tight to his chest. Yuuri scratches at the back of his neck, feeling underwhelmed by the news. He’s, after all, a Winter Talent. He knows about Winter Talents by default of being one. It seems silly to research about himself. But then Viktor pulls him down to sit on the floor of the library with him. “What do you think is inside?”

“I don’t know, Viktor,” Yuuri sighs, “but it doesn’t seem like something we should be touching. It looks fragile.”

“Hm, it does look a little crisp,” Viktor shrugs. 

“More like burned.”

“Let’s open it!” Viktor beams, already turning to the first page with writing. Yuuri recognizes the list immediately as an index. Viktor’s excitement tips Yuuri off to the fact that it can’t possibly be the first time the Emperor is looking at this book. He flips through the pages expertly, far too fast to actually read them. “Types. Tactics. Reads like a manual. Oh, look!  _Relationships_.There’s all types of things in here!”

“We’re too young to be looking at any of this!” Yuuri squeaks, too absorbed in the portraits of blue looking people and notes on potential talent magic to notice a shadow looming over them.

“What are you two doing?” Lilia interrupts, eyes sharp as they settle on both of them and the book. “That book isn’t appropriate for children. Now, hand it over.”

(Viktor cries on Yuuri’s lap for a while after Lilia locks up the book in her study. Yuuri sits on his bed, running his fingers through Viktor’s long hair.

“Want me to braid it for you?” Yuuri asks, wanting to keep Viktor warm. Laying down on his lap is like pressing against an ice cube.

Viktor shakes his head, rolling on his side so his face rests on the warmth of blankets instead.

“That book had everything, Yuuri,” he says, and Yuuri isn’t sure what he means. He sighs, listening. “Everything and she took it.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find others, Viktor.”

“No,” Viktor says and cries all over again.)

**.**

When he’s thirteen, Yuuri almost kills Viktor for the first time. It sends a surge of electricity running up his spine.

“Yuuri!” Viktor gushes, and Yuuri drops to his knees, relieved the spike of ice disintegrated just before reaching Viktor.

“Viktor,” he breathes hard, and Celestino rushes over to check on the Emperor. “What are you doing here?” Yuuri yells, throwing all the confusion and anger in his heart on the training grounds. Celestino looks as relieved as Yuuri, hands brushing all over Viktor’s head and shoulders, like maybe a splinter of ice or even a droplet of water might have fallen on him.

He’s safe. The words float and Yuuri gasps, trying to reach for them with abandon.

“I’m the Emperor,” he says, shrugging nonchalant, “I’m allowed to be anywhere I want!”

“But not here,” Yuuri tells him, tears clinging to his eyes, “not  _here_. I practice here, stuff that I don’t know how to control yet, stuff that could really hurt you. Oh my god, I almost killed you!”

“Yuuri, what you just did! It was amazing! Incredible!”

“And it was very foolish of you, Your Highness, to come to the practice grounds unaccompanied,” Celestino admonishes him, helping Viktor stand. “May this be a lesson to you. This isn’t a playground and visits should be kept to appropriate group settings. Besides, Yuuri needs to focus. A few hours apart will do you both god.”

(“You’re mad at me,” Viktor tells Yuuri that night as they sneak into the kitchen together.

“I was mad at you,” Yuuri corrects, handing him a cloth to put over his lap. “I’m not any more. Now, I’m just worried.”

“That you could hurt me,” Viktor says, so sure of himself. He reaches for a cookie. “You won’t, Yuuri. Not me.”

“I almost did today.” He hides his face between his palms, feeling lost and cold – so cold for the first time. In the back of his mind, a little voice whispers, _so weak, you’d hurt the one you love the most because you’re so incompetent. Give him up_. But he can’t. Not when Viktor reaches for his hand, squeezing gently. “I don’t know if I can keep controlling my powers like before. It’s like they’ve gone haywire and no matter how little I dance, how much I train with Celestino, my Talent just keeps acting up…”

Viktor shrugs, “I think you’re exaggerating. You’re a powerful Winter Talent, Yuuri. You should feel proud!”

Yuuri’s not so sure.)

 .

 

When they’re fourteen, Viktor kisses Yuuri’s lips. He’s not expecting it. Like every morning, Yuuri knocks on the Emperor’s door. Viktor opens the door, grinning as he pulls Yuuri inside and pecks his lips. It’s such an attack against his senses that it makes Yuuri’s knees buckle, even as innocent as it might be.

Yuuri squeaks and, suddenly, the room turns several degrees chillier. Viktor licks his lips, looking every bit like he’s made some amazing discovery.

“Hm, maybe I am onto something,” Viktor says, returning to his bed to finish unbraiding his hair.

“Onto what?” Yuuri asks, following him behind him a little lost.

“Don’t worry about it,” Viktor winks. “I just have a theory about why your Talent keeps acting up. Even if it hasn’t been as much recently.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t start now,” Yuuri whispers, reaching for a blanket to drop it around Viktor. He can feel that the room is colder now, thanks to him.

.

“Please, Yuuri?” Viktor asks when they’re fifteen, hearts in his eyes as he whispers close to Yuuri’s ear. “This is the first one Yakov lets me plan on my own and I want my winter ball to be the best one ever!”

“So,” Yuuri looks around the large banquet hall, letting his fingers graze over the gold-plated sculptures chiseled on the pillars and walls of the room. He rests his hand on the Mural of the Mountain, “you want me to coat this entire place with ice?”

Viktor nods, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, “Yes! Please? Celestino said it’d be good practice for you, too. I want this whole place silver, silver. And maybe a couple of sculptures, too?”

“I—I’ll try,” Yuuri whispers, watching Viktor expectantly. “You’re not leaving? It’s going to get very cold, Viktor.”

“I’d like to watch, actually,” Viktor says, breathless. “I think you’re the most beautiful dancer in the whole Empire, Yuuri. It’s a shame we get to see you do it so rarely. May I?”

And Yuuri nods, unable to ever say no to anything Viktor asks of him.

**TBC**


	6. Tundra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! You can talk to me on Tumblr: CuttleMeFishWrites. <3

Fifteen is the hardest age. It’s the first time Yuuri realizes the love he feels for Viktor will need to have an expiration date. Viktor is the Emperor. Yuuri is just one of his Roses. Altogether, there’s anywhere between 60 to 65 Roses in the palace at any point in time, some with exceptional abilities ( _far superior than yours_ , a familiar voice inside his head reminds him,) and incomparable beauty ( _while you’re just an ice cube_ ). What is Yuuri to an Emperor? – _A placeholder, of course!_

As if he needs more reminders, the Winter Banquet comes exceedingly fast that year—likely because Yuuri spends significant amounts of time preparing.

The Winter Banquet is always a special occasion for the Roses. It marks the presentation of the new Roses before the Court. Thereafter, the Roses return to their seclusion, training and spending time only with the older Roses, like Yuuri. They are groomed and educated until they are of the right age for the Emperor to give the Champion a medal and the children to outgrow their pencils and books and begin picking up their weapons. It’s a story Yuuri understands intimately well. Still, this moment is one of celebration: The Roses are bringing honor to their families and to the Empire. Soon, they’ll start sending money, too.

(Yuuri thinks of Isabella then. He remembers her last day in the palace, spent entirely in her room packing a large wooden trunk with fine silk dresses. “I won’t need them where I’m going,” she had told Yuuri, giving him a grimace. “Celestino said he will have it delivered to my family. I’m sure they’ll get good money for these. Things are hard in my district.” – And Yuuri hadn’t dared tell her that he couldn’t imagine her family giving away the last vestiges of her memory.) 

He stands behind Viktor’s throne in his new uniform, feeling his entire body itch despite the cold.

“You’re looking exceptionally handsome tonight,” Viktor says to him, trying to hide a wink as he gives Prince Christophe a dignified wave. Chris is visiting this year, having come of age and being betrothed (officially) to Viktor.

No amount of love will ever give Yuuri the same opportunity to stand side by side with Viktor at an official function—not even at the age of 18 and, after that, what really matters? By then, Yuuri will be gone to battle and, if the pattern that has existed before him remains exacting and unforgiving, Viktor will go on to marry several times, take on many spouses, have many heirs, and ultimately forget Yuuri, who will likely be dead and a decorative vase on his parents’ mantel.

Yuuri gulps, finding the decorative veil over half his face particularly irksome.

“May I take this off, Your Highness?” Yuuri huffs, picking at his headpiece.

“Surely not. I spent a lot of time designing those gold roses to match the trim of your new uniform,” Viktor teases, giving an affectionate nod at the newest little Roses walking into the room. They look very small, far smaller than Yuuri remembers them looking in previous years. Each year it seems the children get frailer. It’s worrying.

Yuuri knows some of the townships have been complaining of drought. He wonders if some have come on particularly challenging times. It seems Hasetsu continues to flourish from Mari’s letters, with their inn picking up a lot of traffic thanks visitors making pilgrimage to visit the home of the current long-reigning champion. He picks at his medal, a smiling poodle, and waves at the children, who huddle together in their fancy robes.

“Yuuri,” Viktor hums excitedly, tugging him down. “There they are! Remember I told you one of them has your name?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri hums fondly, leaning against the throne. He’s been busy with additional training from Celestino and barely been seeing the other Roses. There’s something particularly adorable about the way Viktor’s entire body seems to thrum with excitement. Even his side-braid bounces as he says: “It’s the chubby blond one with the head bun! Isn’t he cute? We should adopt him, Yuuri!”

Yuuri blanches, “A—adopt him?”

Viktor nods.

“He’s a child, Viktor, not a dog. Besides, he’s a Rose. He has a family. He’s just here at your pleasure. All Roses are already under your care.”

“Well, then, let’s just keep a really close eye on him?” Viktor beams. Yuuri has never been able to deny him anything and _this_ , out of so many things, feels incredibly harmless. The little boy looks smaller than the others and just a little lost in the finesse of the room. From his robes, Yuuri can almost guess he must be from Tuly City, an animal speaker most likely. “Now, come escort me to Chris. And then we’ll dance.”

“You have to dance with the Prince first,” Yuuri reminds him, barely sure if Viktor realizes Yakov has set an intractable schedule for his evening. Viktor waves him off, practically bounding as he makes his way down the ballroom and slides right into Chris’ outstretched arms. Yuuri knows well that this is all a very well-planned attempt at giving the Court comfort that there is a strong bond between Viktor and Chris. It still makes Yuuri’s stomach curl, though.

“My darling!” Chris enunciates for the benefit of the room, twirling Viktor like he weighs nothing—a flower floating in the wind. It’s not like they haven’t all seen each other just that same morning, but Viktor has been very careful with the other nobles at Yakov’s request. Viktor gives him a soft expression, something coy and blossoming as he pulls him towards the dancefloor and the music begins.

(This is how it’s supposed to be and Yuuri knows it. It’s still not easy watching Viktor and Chris play into the expectations of others, twirling on the dancefloor with the ease of a man unencumbered by his own mortality. Yuuri knows the laughs they’re giving each other are friendly. Chris has brought his composer, who is somewhere in the crowd sipping on warm, mulled wine. He almost wishes he could look half as disinterested, but his entire world is Viktor, from the moment he wakes to the moment he walks into his dreams.  

“Come on, Yuuri,” Sara bumps into him, looking beautiful in a flaring purple gown. She points to the other couples joining the floor. Technically, that’s a sign that they’re allowed. “Let’s dance!” – And Mickey guffaws, beginning to argue behind them.

“I’m working,” he says softly, but finds he’s no match for Mila and Emil, too. Yuuri just laughs as Sara, Emil, and Mila pull him to the dance floor. Mickey trails behind them protectively. “I need to look after the Emperor,” Yuuri chuckles, but starts shifting his feet slowly as they all fall into a comfortable sway together.

“He’s just right there,” Mila points out with a glint in her eye. “And we haven’t seen you in a while. One dance with your family won’t hurt.”

Yuuri beams, “I suppose it’s alright.”)

.

Viktor seems just a little bit upset the next day. He remains tight-lipped as Yuuri escorts him down the hallway to visit Chris and his guest.

“How did you enjoy yourself last night?” Chris finally asks Yuuri, trying to make some light conversation before breakfast. “Did I spy Lord Lee speaking to you last night?”

Yuuri flushes brightly. The night before feels like a blur. Lord Seung-Gil Lee is the regent of Dylwin and incredibly high-standing, thanks to the role his city and district have played in contributing to the Rose program. There is no city more represented and certainly no region with such a well-run program. For generations, Dylwin has prided itself in giving to the Empire _beauty_ , in all forms. Lord Lee had taken a keen interest in Yuuri the night before, complimenting him coldly in between sips of honey wine and stories about his dog. Yuuri had appreciated the attention.

“He was curious to see me,” Yuuri confesses, keeping his head low. “Many are always curious. Their experiences with Winter Talents are unfortunate, to say the least.”

“It is a fascinating condition to have a talent that both serves to enhance and degrade your quality of life,” Alex, Chris’ composer, says with an air of pity. “Not to mention that most Winter Talents have a reputation for being… as you said, unfortunate looking.”

“Ugly?” Yuuri offers plainly.

“I didn’t mean to be insulting,” Alex furrows his brows. “Not ugly, but certainly either sickly or—”

“Not what is expected of the Rose program,” Chris sighs. All of them can feel Viktor stiffen as he walks. He still fails to acknowledge them. “All, we shouldn’t mince words among friends. The Rose program is considered a harem of beauty and power to bring glory to the Empire and the eight cities. Hence why Dylwin, with her diversity and geographical location at the very center of the Empire, has overrepresentation. It attracts wanderers and keeps them, helping to breed some of the most beautiful people this side of the world. Including my Alexis.”

Alex blushes, bowing his head.

“You are from Dylwin?” Yuuri gapes.

“My mother was from Dylwin. My father was from Hasetsu.”

Chris nods, continuing in his tirade: “Take Rose Isabella Yang as an example. Has there been a female Rose more beautiful? She is still the Madonna of Dylwin. Statues have risen in her honor.”

“Isabella was more than a pretty face. She was extremely powerful,” Viktor says curtly.

“Indeed,” Chris agrees, eyes twinkling. “My only point was that Dylwinians are experts in beauty. Winter Talents are surely almost non-existent there. I am positive Lord Lee just had to admire for himself the most beautiful rose in the Emperor’s garden.”

“The roses are already blooming?” Yuuri asks elated, turning to Viktor innocently. “But it’s winter.”

Chris and Alex laugh. 

Viktor fists his hands together, looking enraged.

“ _You_. You are the most beautiful rose under my care, Yuuri. How can you _not_ know that? How can you _not_ see?” he says, cheeks puffed out and red. He flips his long braid over his shoulder, speeding ahead for the dining hall. “Stupid Lord Lee,” he grouches the entire time.

. 

A few months later, Celestino tells Yuuri that they will start partitioning Viktor’s day into more shifts for additional Roses to take some responsibility from Yuuri. This comes as a shock. Yuuri’s only time away from Viktor are for practice. Even his lessons take place by Viktor’s side, thanks to the Emperor’s tantrums. Instead of spending drawdown time with his class, Yuuri spends it with Viktor. It’s been a source of friction and concern. Yuuri is expected to lead his friends into battle in just over two years; he barely seems to know them the older he grows.

“This will give you ample time to prepare for the Parade of the Roses,” Celestino explains.

“But isn’t the class champion the one that showcases in the parade?” Yuuri asks, confused. “Isn’t Eleanor showcasing?”

Eleanor is a Rose from Tana. Once known as the twin towns of Talis and Nakim, Tana became a single city after the battle for the north. Thinking of Tana reminds Yuuri of Otabek and by extension the death of the former Emperor. It’s a bitter memory that circles Yuuri’s mind back to Viktor. _Always Viktor._

“Eleanor is still showcasing this year,” Celestino explains, “That has not changed. But you are fast approaching your showcase and it is time you started preparing. Do you honestly think you could prepare in a single month to dance throughout the expanse of a city the size of Hasetsu? Training has to begin now. We must build up to the parade slowly. In fact, as it stands, you’re starting later than most other champions thanks to the Emperor.”

Yuuri feels his knees shake and wobble.

 _I’m starting late_ , he panics, wondering if he will manage to prepare in time.

. 

He’s sixteen when he hears Sara and Mila murmuring behind a shelf in the Grand Library. He pokes a book from his side, pleased when it slides and slams on the ground. “ _Boo_ ,” he grins, peeking through the hole. Mila jumps, but Sara remains calm, crossing her arms with an indistinguishable sparkle in her eyes.

“Really, Mimi? You didn’t even feel him approaching?” Sara sighs, rubbing at her temples. “And with all your training, too.” – Sara has always had an uncanny ability for sensing Yuuri. _It’s in the way you move,_ she had told him, trying to explain to him the vibrations of his step rhythm. They had been children then, pretending to play in the dirt to forget they were training.

Yuuri has always had a soft spot for Sara. Out of all of them, she feels the more _real_ , stuck somewhere between memories of her childhood in Dylwin and her dreams of not going to battle the Ice Spirit. (“I’m no one’s martyr, Katsuki Yuuri,” she had told him once, rubbing the tears from her eyes after Celestino had made her fight her own brother and sent him to the infirmary. “You all may love Emperor Viktor, but I can’t forget what he has taken from me.”)

“Yuuri is sneaky,” Mila whines, resting her forehead on Sara’s shoulder. Yuuri tries to ignore the way their hands link together, fingers wrapped tight like strings. “I can’t ever tell what he’s thinking anymore. It’s like there’s a fog inside his mind. And don’t even get me started on _sensing_ him. That’d be like sensing the weather!”

Sara elbows her harshly. It’s such a common indirect that Yuuri isn’t even fazed.

Yuuri preens anyway. It’s still a compliment to be imperceptible. It will help him greatly in battle.

“What are you two doing hiding between bookshelves?”

Mila and Sara exchange looks.

“We were just looking at a map,” Sara tells him. “You want to see? We’re just trying to get an idea of the route to the mountains.”

“Why would you want to look at that?” Yuuri asks. He knows intuitively they should _all_ care. Being prepared for the distance is only the beginning of the battle. If they can’t even make it through the tundra, there’s no point in even practicing to fight the Ice Spirit. As always, Sara amazes him, leaves him breathless and feeling stupid. Yuuri is their Champion. He never even considered looking at the map.

Sara arches an eyebrow, “I think you well know why. Ice may mean very little to you, Yuuri, but Green Talents like Mickey and myself are exceedingly vulnerable. We need to map rations, begin identifying our strategy for a camp, and—”

“—Determine potential secondary routes and nearby towns!” Mila offers, receiving another jab.

Yuuri arches an eyebrow, “nearby towns? – You both know as well as I do that to veer away from the path is considered treason and—”

“Because they can only kill us if we are alive. If we are dead in the ice, what do they care?” Sara rolls her eyes. “Do you want to see the map or not? Isabella left some excellent notes behind. Mila and I like to study them.”

Yuuri nods, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

. 

That night, he sneaks back into Viktor’s chambers. The Rose on shift gives him a reproachful look, but sighs deeply before bowing his head and exiting the room. Viktor is braiding Rose Yuri’s hair, which has grown rather long. Although he’s not yet seven, Yuri is poised to become his class’ Champion, especially with Viktor’s support. “Look who’s here,” Viktor hums, giving him a coy look as he reaches for one of his own pearl ties to decorate Yuri’s hair. “Don’t move. I’m not yet done.”

Yuri bounces in place, looking at Yuri from the mirror.

“Yuuri!” he says, so earnest and innocent that it melts Yuuri’s heart. He keeps the book with Isabella’s notes hidden behind his back. “Did you win against everyone again today?”

Yuuri gives him a small, almost guilty nod.

“I tried to skip practice, but Celestino found me in the library with Mila and Sara,” Yuuri assents, following Viktor’s beckon to sit by them. “So, as punishment, he made us battle. I had no choice.”

“You went to the library instead of here?” Viktor asks him. He seems more curious than upset, probably because he had Yuri to entertain him. It’s one of Celestino’s newest tricks. Replacing Yuuri for Yuri works in small increments of time to appease Viktor, letting him train and connect with his team more—and dance until his feet bleed. 

“Yes. I want to discuss something with you. But later.”

“Yuuri is going to defeat the Ice Spirit and bring all the Roses back!” Yuri declares once Viktor is done with his hair. Viktor preens proudly at his words, brushing down his robes with the air of someone too dignified to take credit for anything. Yuuri knows better. He’s had this conversation with Viktor before. Yuri is a Rose. And, like all Roses, he will likely have to face the long trek to the mountain. It’s irresponsible of Viktor to tell him otherwise. It verges on criminal that Yuuri should be built an altar from Yuri’s innocence.

For a while now, Yuuri has considered his fate. Between rare but precious moments of tranquility and solitude, he has pieced together what he knows and doesn’t to decide that he is a sacrifice. Sara may not be a martyr, but she, too, is a sacrifice. They all are. It’s the only explanation as to why no Rose has ever returned. Death is almost assured for anyone that attempts the trek and guaranteed for anyone that faces the Ice Spirit. Yuuri will not be the first to fall and he won’t be the last.

Yuuri flinches, “who told you that?”

“Viktor,” Yuri says, rushing to slam his entire body against Yuuri’s middle. He hugs Yuri tightly, glaring at Viktor from above the child’s head.

“I see,” Yuuri murmurs. He pats Yuri’s back. “You should go back. Bedtime approaches and they will look for you. You wouldn’t want to miss story time.”

“Oh, right! I have to go see Potya,” Yuri nods, referring to the baby tiger under his care. He runs off quickly, almost tripping in his oversized robes. _To be six again_ , Yuuri thinks fondly, watching as Yuri gives them a sheepish bow. “Night-night Emperor Viktor! Bye-bye Yuuri!”

When the door closes, Yuuri crosses his arms: “ _Viktor_.”

“I didn’t do anything! He likes hearing about you. And I like talking about you,” Viktor pouts. “You won’t kiss me, Yuuri?”

“You don’t deserve it,” Yuuri sighs, running tired, shaky fingers through his hair. It’s hard to deny Viktor anything, especially sitting next to him. The smell of his perfume wafts around Yuuri, intoxicating him with the feeling of missing him all afternoon.

“But I’m on my knees for you,” Viktor whispers, hand fisting around Yuuri’s tunic shirt to give him a soft, half-lidded look. “Will you truly deny your Emperor, Yuuri?”

Yuuri gives him a pointed look, “Yes. At least until we talk.”

Next to him, the book that had been leaning against his thigh thuds.

“What have you got there?” Viktor leans forward, batting his eyelashes at Yuuri. “Is it a book?”

“It is and I was hoping to discuss it with you, but now I have to talk to you about Yuri. Viktor,” Yuuri reminds him. “Viktor, Yuri is a Rose, just like me.”

“Yes, and exceptionally promising,” Viktor nods, calling Makkachin to come over. Makkachin obeys attentively, sitting in front of Viktor to receive some kisses from Viktor. “Point?”

“Point being that it isn’t okay for you to give him false hopes that he will not have to face the Ice Spirit or the trek to the mountains. Our entire purpose as Roses is to make the trek, Viktor."

“And to come back,” Viktor tells him petulantly, petting Makkachin’s head.

“Which no one has,” Yuuri reminds him, reaching to grab Viktor’s chin to reclaim his attention. “No one has, Viktor. So you can’t tell Yuri that I will be the first because it is unlikely, if not impossible, based on the laws set forth by the Empire.”

“You are going to defeat the Ice Spirit, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, “I know you are. And you know how I know?”

Yuuri looks away.

“Look at me, Yuuri,” Viktor demands. “I _know_ because I have never met or seen someone more exceptional than you.”

“That’s because you won’t look at anyone else! You don't care about anyone else!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yuuri groans, “It means what it means. And you know it, too. It’s exactly what Chris said to us: The Roses live and die at the service of the Empire, at the pleasure of the Emperor. We are under _your_ care, in so far as you clothe and feed and train us. When we go away, our families are cared for thanks to you.”

“I _am_ a generous ruler,” Viktor reminds him, trying to peck his lips.

“You’re not getting it!” Yuuri explodes, pulling back quickly. “Perhaps what’s worst is that you don’t _care_. And I’ve been a fool to play along, to pretend like I was helping you to understand.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, watching him carefully.

“Viktor,” Yuuri repeats, slowly. His hands shake by his sides. He tries to contain his tears, but the moment his bottom lip quivers, he feels his eyes begin to sting with the anger he’s been holding back for years. It comes back like a slap in the wrist, the same one that once branded him into the live he now knows—the one he has worshipped for the love he will never be able to maintain, only borrow in the quiet of Viktor’s bedroom or his favor. “Chances are that I am going to die, that I won’t even get to the mountains, or that if I do, I will be alone. _Alone._ As in, all my friends will likely die, and if they don’t die, then I will be forced to kill them should they step away from the trail in an effort to _live_.”

“Yuuri, no,” Vikor tears up, not for the first time. He rubs at his eyes childishly.

“And you have to make peace with it. You have to stop living in a fairytale. You have to stop feeding a fairytale to Yuri because that is his fate, too!”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Viktor promises, hiding his face against Makkachin’s fur.

“And even despite what I have told you, you don’t _care_ ,” Yuuri crumbles, dropping to his knees.

“Of course I do, Yuuri! I love you!”

And Yuuri realizes, not for the first time, that Viktor cares for Yuuri, but not for him as his Champion nor the brand on his hand. There is an irony in the way it makes Yuuri’s heart sing, even as his body aches with the bruises of training sessions that remind him he is tired, aging by the minutes, waiting to expire in months. Yuuri gulps back his tears, staring at the sign of the rose on his skin. Not for the last time, he curses it. Not for the first time, he decides _this_ is all his fault.

“Well, then you need to stop,” Yuuri tells him.

**TBC**


End file.
